Deceiver

“One had planned to return to the station, but—”

“Oh, you shall. You must. You have done far too well in that position. Considering the situation we face, with foreigners apt to arrive, we need you there. But certain things need your attention.”

“Absolutely, aiji-ma. Whatever one can do—”

“If my grandson steps in and takes action, it is another heavy-handed Ragi seizure—such an unhappy history on this coast. If the Guild does—the same. Things here are delicate. You appreciate it in unique ways. And coming at proof may not be easy. Lord Pairuti may have destroyed recordsc”

Geigi held up a finger. “May have. But I would wager not, aiji-ma. Not that man. His disposition is compulsive—a passion for details. He will have them. And I can get them. I shall need to take back Kajiminda with some dispatch. Clearly, so doing, I shall need to interview certain of my own clan. Which makes my calling on Pairuti obligatory. He will expect it. He will be in a dither to hide the records, but he will not destroy them, not that man.”

Go there? Good God.

“We are understaffed, Geigi-ji,” Bren protested.

“We have taken measures in that direction, nandiin,” Ilisidi said smugly. “We will haveforce at our disposal—granted my grandson understands our position. He will notpermit Lord Geigi to come to grief. He may fuss about the situation. But he will move to protect the treaty that binds the coast to the aishidi’tatc and you, Geigi-ji, are its living embodiment. He willmove.”

Read: Tabini hadn’t agreed to Ilisidi’s demands. Tabini hadn’t jumped to relocate his forces from Separti. He hadn’t come rushing to Ilisidi’s conclusion, perhaps, or he had something else going on that he wasn’t happy to leave.

Which could mean there were complications.

Najida’s perspective on the immediate threat, however, were different than Tabini’s. If Pairuti was colluding with the Marid, Najida was staring up the barrel of a gun. Problems could come at them right down the airport road. Or arrive en masse by train.

And Tabini, mind, had just yesterday left his son and heir andthe aiji-dowager inthis position.

Damn, he didn’t like it when Tabini turned as inscrutable and ruthless as his grandmother. Especially when he and people he cared about were in the target zone. He had to get Toby and Barb out of the harbor, as early as possible. He’d liketo ship Cajeiri and his young company back to Shejidanc but that meant exposing the movement in Najida. They’d had their chance to get Cajeiri moved out—and his father had left him behind, perhaps—dared one even think it—as an intentional proofof his lack of alarm?

“We need the help of the Edi, aiji-ma,” he said. “We need everything they can bring to bear.”

“Oh, we shall have help,” Ilisidi said with a small, tight smile. “And so much the better if the Edi will protect the grounds here, and protect us all. I have requested it. I have asked Ramaso to relay it to the Grandmother, and I have received assurances.”

God, leave the house for a few hours and come back to war preparations.

“We shall deal with it, ’Sidi-ji.” Geigi gave a little bow, distressed of countenance, but not about to retreat, no, not with that look. “I shall do everything in my power, aiji-ma, and your recommendations, allowing me to deal with this myself, are generous. And I shall want to speak to the Edi on your staff, with your kind permission.”

“You certainly have Najida’s full support, Geigi-ji,” Bren said, “so far as lies in my hands.”

“And I shall see my nephew.” Geigi drew in a long, long breath. “The wretch. I will meet with him tomorrow after breakfast. Tell him I am here, Bren-ji; and let him stew tonight.”

It had been interesting. Interesting was what Great-grandmother would call it. Cajeiri had been just very quiet and respectful, and heard all kinds of news about the neighbors, and scary hints that nand’ Geigi was going to have a talk with his relatives inland.

The talk he meant to have with Baiji, down in the basement— thatwas one Cajeiri very much wanted to hear. He was already thinking how to get in on that interview, even if he and his aishid just had to be casually walking through the downstairs— repeatedly.

But he had been right in his approach. He and, he was sure, Jegari and Antaro, had sopped up a lot of what was going on with the seniors; and maybe Lucasi and Veijico had learned something useful, too—if Tano and Algini had been in a good mood.

So very quietly, after nand’ Bren and nand’ Geigi had left— Cajeiri paid his own little bow to Great-grandmother. “One is grateful, mani. One did learn.”

“See you stay within the house, Great-grandson. And stay within call.”

“ Yes, mani.” A second bow, a deep one, in leaving. “I shall.”

What was going on outside mani’s rooms was preparation for a formal dinner this evening, and nand’ Toby and Barb-daja insisted they were coming up from the boat, which had security and staff running about—not mentioning the ongoing process of getting Lord Geigi fully installed in his suite, which had been the security office, and fed a light late lunch—everybody in the house had already eaten—to tide him over until supper.

And Lucasi and Veijico had been in the library with Tano and Algini—who might have let them hear all of it, he supposed— glum thought—or maybe not.

He gathered his aishid in his own apartment, himself sitting by his own fireplace and its comfortably warm embers. “Sit down,” he said, “nadiin-ji.” And they took the other chairs, all four of them.

“How much did you hear?” he asked Lucasi and Veijico. “And how much did you understand?”

“We heard,” Lucasi said, “that they are hoping Edi will function in the place of the Guild in protecting this region, and that Lord Geigi intends to move into Kajiminda faster than the aiji’s Guild occupying it would like. We heard that Maschi clan leadership may no longer be reliable.”

That was certainly an aspect of it. One could gather Tano and Algini had somewhat discussed that problem in their own terms. And one also gathered Lucasi and Veijico clearly did not think Geigi was being smart.

“The Edi know everything that moves on the coast,” he reminded them. “And they are used to managing this area, nadiin-ji.”

“They failed to advise nand’ Bren there was a problem. That was wrong.”

“Talking to the Edi is a problem. You know they have a rule against talking to outsiders. Nand’ Bren has gotten past that now. So has my great-grandmother. And Lord Geigi is their lord—besides, mani is already talking about putting the Edi in charge of part of this coast. So the Edi are talking to us now. And they are part of the protection of this house.”

“They have no skill against real Guild,” Veijico said. “And should not be relied on. Your father ought to know this, nandi.”

“One is certain he will know it,” he said, annoyed at their pertness with opinions. “But the Marid Guild did notsucceed in taking this house, or in holding onto Kajiminda. So they are not as smart as they think they are. And the Edi are not doing badly.”

His older bodyguards looked more than a little offput. Then Lucasi said, “That is no measure of success, nandi. The Guild does not holdpositions. Holding positions is a lord’s business. Holding is politics, and the demonstration of power.”

Well, thatwas a recitation from some book.

“So it is my business to hold things,” he said. “And yours to take them. When I say so.”

Silence, from the troublemakers. “Yes,” Antaro said quietly. Jegari nodded. But not the other two.

Useful to know the Guild’s opinion of its uses.

“The Edi,” he said, “have done very well.”

“ Notwell,” Veijico said.

“Better than the Marid Guild,” he said. Tag. Point for his side. He liked winning an argument, too. “Some of them are dead. The Edi were smart. They sided with Great-grandmother.”

“Still, nandi,” Lucasi said, “they are irregulars.”

“They are alive,” he said, “and the Marid’s Guild have been trying to take over for years.”

“Kajiminda’s Guild has prevented it, nandi. It is notirregulars who have defended this coast.”

He liked the notion that his bodyguard would talk back to him: Cenedi talked back to Great-grandmother, and Banichi talked back to Bren. But Lucasi and Veijico were being stupid. And that made him mad.

“That was,” he said shortly, “after Kajiminda’s Guild went off and got killed in the Troubles, or never even got to Shejidan, for all we know. They died.”

“Possibly the Edi that served Kajiminda all died, too,” Veijico said. “Since they are missing.”

“Nandi,” he corrected them sharply. “You say ‘nandi.’”

“Nandi,” Veijico said.

“And you are to mean it, nadi!”

A bow of the head and noopenness of expression from her or her brother. Mani would never put up with it. They thought he had to, being a year short of nine.

“I have been in space,” he said, just as nastily. “I have been on a spaceship and on a station andthe shuttle, and I have seen people who are not atevi and not human, either, where we all could have gotten blown up. So I know things, nadiin. I have gotten myself out of trouble. And Antaro and Jegari and I all three were in a war. You were not. So you should listen.”

“We listen, nandi,” Veijico said glumly.

“You are rude.”

“ No, nandi, we are notrude. We are advising you, for your safety.”

“We do as we please, nadiin! Youdo not. Weget away with things because we are not loud about it and we do what our guards by no means expect, but also because we listenabout what is dangerous and what is not and we do not go some places. We are not stupid, nadiin! You think anybody not Guild is stupid. You think the Edi are stupid. You probably think everybody in the staff is stupid. Superior thinking, mani says, does not consist of thinking oneself superior. We think you should reconsider who is stupid.”

There was a moment of deep, uncomfortable silence.

“We stand corrected, nandi,” Veijico said coldly.

“You should,” he said. It was as good as mani could do— almost. And they had deserved it. He was still mad. Which was not satisfactory. He hated being mad. He hated having people see that he was. Face! mani would say, and thwack him on the ear until he mended his expression. Which he did—mended all the way to a tight, small smile. And got up, so they all had to.

“It will be a very formal dinner tonight,” he said, meaning whatever bodyguard attended him had to eat beforehand or after. The little dining room was going to be wall-to-wall security— literally shoulder-to-shoulder Guild, considering nand’ Bren’s little estate had so many important guests.

And maybe the boredom of standing about this evening, while Antaro and Jegari ate at leisure in the suite, would give Lucasi and Veijico enough time to think about the seriousness of the situation, and about the fact that they were in among very senior security who had earned the right to respect.

“You two will attend me,” he told them. “All day.” He planned to do his lessons, which was the most boring thing he could think of, and not to let them off. “You can stand at the door and keep an eye on things. Jegari and Antaro will be helping me with my homework.”

For the paidhi-aiji, it was a formal evening coat, light green, and freshly pressed, with only a moderate amount of lace— comfortable, a country style. It was one of Bren’s favorites, comfortable across the shoulders, unlike the court-style that was intended to remind the wearer about posture—constantly. He slipped it on and went down to the front door to welcome Toby and Barb into the house. It was an exposed walk, coming up the hill, and he breathed easier when the door opened and let them in.

“I gather Lord Geigi made it in all right,” Toby said. “We saw the bus. Fancy!”

“Everything in order,” Bren said. Toby didn’t bow. He didn’t. And they didn’t touch, in front of staff, which they always were, in the hall. “Barb. Good evening.”

“Are we proper?” Barb asked in a low voice. Toby’s lady—his own ex, which was an inconvenience—but one he was determined to ignore. And do her credit, Barb tried. Toby and Barb had come up the hill wearing good Mospheiran-style clothes— that was to say white trousers, light sweaters, Toby in blue, Barb in brown with a little embroidery, and in Toby’s case, a dress jacket, the sort one might wear to a better Port Jackson restaurant. It was as formal as two boaters got, within their own wardrobes.

“Perfectly proper,” he said, in good humor, and led them on down toward the side corridor toward the dining hall, with Banichi and Jago in attendance.

But just down toward the end of the hall, Lord Geigi exited his quarters, and they delayed to meet the portly lord and his two bodyguardsc Lord Geigi resplendent in gray and green brocade and a good deal of lace.

To Lord Geigi, surely, the mode of Barb’s and Toby’s dinner dress might be a little exotic—yachting whites weren’t the mode among the numerous humans on the station—but Lord Geigi was an outgoing fellow and went so far as to offer his hand, station manners, to the complete astonishment of the household servants standing by at the hallway intersection.

“My brother Toby and his companion Barb,” Bren introduced them both. They both knew Geigi by reputation, no question of that: but a formal introduction was due. “Lord Geigi of Kajiminda, Lord of Sarini Province, third holder of the Treaty of Aregorji, Viceroy of the Heavens and Stationmaster of Alpha Station. Nandi, my brother-by-the-same-father nand’ Toby, an associate of the Presidenta of Mospheira, and his companion Barb-daja.”

Barb and Toby had never heard the full string of titles rattled off, and seemed a little confused. Toby bowed. Barb stared with her mouth a little open.

“Very glad to meet you,” Geigi said, using very idiomatic ship-speak, as they pursued their walk toward the dining room. “A pleasant surprise, your presence here.”

“Honored,” Toby said. “Very honored, sir. My brother has always spoken extremely highly of you. One is grateful.” The latter in fairly passable Ragi.

“Well, well,” Geigi said, still in ship-speak, “and eloquence runs in the family. I do very much regret displacing you from your quarters.”

“Oh, no way, sir. We’re very comfortable on the boat. The same as being home.”

“Gracious as well.” Geigi was at his jovial best as they reached the door and he half-turned, hesitating at another arrival behind them in the hall. “And the aiji-dowager joins us.”

“Do go in,” Bren said to Toby and Barb, while Geigi’s attention and his courtesies passed smoothly to Ilisidi. Personal staff had neatly coordinated the arrivals by inverse order of rank, and the paidhi-aiji in particular did notenter the dining room after the aiji-dowager. Toby and Barb went first, least in rank; he came second, and as host and holder of the estate he took his place and bowed to Lord Geigi, who entered next, and found his chair at table, at Bren’s left.

Immediately after, Ilisidi arrived with Cajeiri—hindmost.

And what with Banichi and Jago, Cenedi and Nawari, Lucasi and Veijico, and Geigi’s guards, Saoji and Sakeimi, the wall around the dining table was solid black and armed to the teethc not that the guests present didn’t trust each other. It was the house itself that was in jeopardy: dinnertime was absolutely classic in the machimi, as the most convenient time to sneak up on a house—what with servants coming and going, everybody gathered in one place, and maybe not paying attentionc and perhaps a little buzzed with alcohol.

Their bodyguards, however, werepaying attention. Constantly.

Poison? Not in his kitchen. Not with his cook.

Not with off-duty security having their supper next door to the kitchens.

And not with a household staff that came from Najida village. He had too many eyes, too many people on alert for any intruder to get that chance.

And dinner began, first of all, with wines, fruit juices, liquor. One knew what things their guest had been in the way of missing.

“Do choose, Geigi-ji,” Ilisidi said. Ordinarily staff would seek her choices first. She gave Geigi that honor.

And Geigi chose a delicate white wine for openersc Cajeiri opting for a sparkling fruit juice.

After that, then, came a succession of courses, especially the traditional regional dishes of the season. The cook had announced a seventeen-course dinner, which, even for atevi appetites, amounted more to a leisurely and lengthy tasting event than a dinner in the usual sense. There was a constant succession of plates and dishes—fish, shellfish, game of the season, imported curd and sauces of black bean plant, greenbud, orangelle, too many to track. There could not be a utensil in the kitchen not being washed and reused. There was black bread, white bread, whole-grain and soft bread. There were three kinds of eggs; and preserves and pickles. There were gravies, light and dark. There were vegetable sherbets—palate cleansers— between the courses. Bren had had particular warning from the cook about the lime-green sherbet, and he had a servant hovering anxiously by to be absolutely certain neither he nor Toby nor Barb got into that dish, which would have probably dropped them to the floor inside the hour.

There were souffles, and patés, there were crackers, four different sorts, and there were, finally, oh, my God—desserts, from cream fruit pudding with meringue to cakes and tarts, and a thirteen-layer torte with a different icing in each level.

Bren pushed back from the table in near collapse.

“If you’d like to go back to the boat—” Bren said to Toby in a very low voice, “staff can see you down. It’s dark already. But if you would like to attend the session in the study, where we shall drink brandy, or pretend to drink it at least, and observe courtly courtesies—”

“Barb?” Toby asked.

Barb looked on the verge of pain, but her eyes had that bright, darting glitter they got at jewelry counters. She looked at the lordly company, and at him, and at Toby, all in three seconds.

“When could we ever have the chance?” she asked. And then said, quietly: “If it really isn’t an intrusion for us to be there.”

Give Barb credit—and at times he truly struggled to give his ex any credit—she really was trying to absorb the experience she and Toby had fallen into, and she was on best behavior. She’d gathered about five Ragi phrases she could use, she’d bought herself a beaded dinner gown—itself a scandal in Najida village, but he didn’t tell her that—which she was not, thank God, wearing tonight. And after she’d helped Toby sink a boat in the harbor on the night when the whole place had erupted in gunfire—he’d actually had to admit Barb had been trying through all of it. Harder still, he had to admit that her help to Toby had mattered when it counted. Tonight she’d picked up cues very well, and Toby was happy, which mattered even more.

“Wouldn’t be a problem at all,” he said. “Mind, Lord Geigi handles our language on a regular basis up on station: you’ve heard. Just don’t be too informal with him. There’s some good brandy for us—don’t touch the dowager’s brand. Or have an orange and vodka. Those things are safe.”

“I’ll just sip at the brandy,” Barb said. “God, I’m stuffed.”

“Goes twice,” Toby said, “but if we won’t be trouble, we can go down late to the boat, your staff willing.”

“They’ll be up for hours, cleaning. And someone will be on duty. You’re welcome to join us.” He wasn’t Ilisidi’s escort this evening: Lord Geigi filled that post. He saw he’d inherited Cajeiri, who hadn’t said a word this evening, not one. “Are you coming too, young sir, or will you retire?”

“I shall come, nandi.”

The dinner party broke up. The dowager and Geigi went out together. Cajeiri stayed right with him. Lucasi and Veijico stayed right with Banichi and Jago. The young lord had been amazingly proper today—one was tempted to compliment him, but one always wondered what he was up to.

Gathering the gossip, Bren rather suspected, in the legitimate way, which meant sitting with the adults and listening even to things that didn’t really interest him, in hopes of some bit of mischief he could get into.

As for Toby and Barb, they were truly overfed, and had had perhaps just a half glass too much already.

But Geigi had come in from a long, long flight, endured all manner of inconvenience for a man of his girth, met with Tabini, hopped two flights, and since had a long bus ride, a meeting with Ilisidi and now a massive supper, so one rather suspected the brandy service would not stretch on into the small hours.

“Delightful, positively delightful, Bren-ji,” Geigi said to him as they were settling in to the admittedly cramped sitting room. “I have not had such a dinner in ages!”

“You are very kind to say so,” Bren said; and took a brandy himself, if only to moisten his lips with it.

Talk ran light for the while: Cajeiri was as quiet as Toby and Barb, and Bren himself had little to say, once the dowager and Geigi took to discussing the Marid.

Now that wasinteresting. One knew, but didn’t knowthe intricacies of the Marid relationships the way Geigi did.

Geigi had himself been married to a woman of the Marid—“I committed my own folly,” was Geigi’s way of putting it, “so I cannot wholly fault my fool nephew on that point, except that when the man ahead of you has fallen into a pit, it is entirely foolish to keep walking down the same course.”

“It is what we said from the beginning, nandi,” Ilisidi said. “You were doing, yes, much the same as your nephew did in listening to the Marid; but there is a difference. You hoped to stabilize the west coast, which was in a very uncomfortable balance at the time. Your staff served you gladly; you had the confidence of the Edi, despite your unfortunate marriage, and despite your wife’s best attempts to bankrupt your fortunes. Your nephew, in these dangerous times, was more concerned with stabilizing his own fortunes—no, not even his fortunes: he is not that foresighted. His comfort. One scarcely believes young Baiji ever had a thought in which his own convenience and comfort were not preeminent.”

Geigi nodded solemnly. “One hoped he had changed. I lamented my sister’s passing—we were often at loggerheads, but she had virtues when it did notinvolve her son. And she wasmy sister.” Geigi sighed. “Marriage has been very problematic for my house, nadiin-ji. A reef on which my branch of Maschi clan may have finally shipwrecked.”

“Say no such thing!” Ilisidi snapped. “Your management will resurrect Maschi clan’s fortunes. As for heir-getting, Baijiwill produce an heir with a lady of advantageous birth, his mother will have his rearing up to fortunate seven, and then we shall simply pack him up to the station so you may have the pleasure of bringing up your nephew in a proper way.”

A little smile. “You have it planned, aiji-ma.”

“Enough of aiji-ma. ’Sidi will do, I say. Speak to me. Voice your opinion about this course.”

“I would wish my heir to grow up at Kajiminda,” Geigi said wistfully, ”and I would wish to have my nephew as far away from any impressionable child as possible.”

“Ha. Bring your nephew up to the station, then marrythe young woman I suggest, and install heras lord in Kajiminda.”

Geigi’s right brow lifted. He took a sip of brandy. “Do you have a name for this theoretical young woman?” he asked.

“We have two possibilities. But we lean most to Maie of the Calrunaidi. A brilliant young scholar. Her brother will inherit Calrunaidi, and she has no shortage of prospects. She is sensible, good at figures, a credit to her parentage, which is Calrunaidi and Ardija. She is no beauty, but it is not beauty that recommends her.”

“Ardija,” Geigi said, nodding slowly. The aged lady of Ardija, as Bren well-remembered, was Drien, Ilisidi’s closest living relative in the East. It was a connection with her own estate of Malguri that Ilisidi proposed for Geigi.

“The young lady has rights there, but no inheritance: Drien of Ardija has a brother-of-the-same-mother whose son will inherit thatestate. So young Maie has better connections than she does prospects. She is a well-dispositioned child who could do far, far better than temporarily marry one of my neighbors and produce themheirs with her connectionsc frankly, a potential inconvenience to my house, which has no heir but this young gentleman, and heis too young for her.”

“Great-grandmother!” Cajeiri said in shock.

“Continue to be young,” Ilisidi said, brushing the matter aside. “Too young, I say, and the young lady is far too bookish for your taste. Not, however, for Lord Geigi’s interests, perhaps. Geigi may marry her.”

“ Marry,” Geigi said, still in shock, himself; and Barb and Toby were looking in Bren’s direction in some small concern, but it was no time to provide translations.

It was a brilliant piece of dynastic chess—if the individuals involved could be persuaded. The sticking point was persuading any young lady of taste to bed down with Baiji long enough. But thatmarriage could be contracted to last just as long as it took to produce an heir, then evaporate as if it had never been. The young woman would find herself quickly married to Lord Geigi, who might even visit the planet for the occasion—and thereafter, if one could read Ilisidi’s plans between the lines, young Maie of the East would occupy Kajiminda, deal with the Edi, and bring up a suitably educated heir for Geigi’s branch of Maschi clan. Maybe two heirs, if she and Geigi actually took to each otherc though the unspoken matter in the background was that Geigi was rumored to have very little interest in young ladies, and no success in getting an heir of his own.

“With adequate security for her residence here,” Geigi said quietly, “that above all. She would be an immediate target of our neighbors in the Marid. So would her child.”

“The Edi will be establishing their own house somewhere neighboring both Kajiminda and Najida,” the dowager said. “And one does not doubt they will become a force to be reckoned with.”

“But is that a certainty?” Geigi asked. “One believed it would still be under debate in the legislature.”

“Oh, pish,” Ilisidi said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My grandson has a brain. He will agree with me, given the other circumstances. And he will see that the legislature agrees. The arrangement gives no great advantage to any single westernhouse, which would be the greatest sticking-point. So it will pass.”

It wasn’t going to be as easy as the dowager said, but with the possibility of a renewed set-to with the Marid looming in the immediate future, and another round of Marid-directed assassinations aimed at destabilizing the aishidi’tat, then counter-moves by the aiji, the house of lords might be inclined to give in and support the proposal. Even the hidebound traditionalists of the center, like Tatiseigi—who was a staunch ally of the aiji-dowager on other points—might be persuaded. One had the feeling of watching a landslide. Boulders were coming downhill, in the dowager’s planning, and damned little was going to stand in her way.

Certainly not one young bookish girl in—what was the clan? Calrunaidi. Nobody in the west had ever heardmuch of Calrunaidi.

But one had certainly heard of Ardija. That, tied closely to Malguri, and involving relatives of the aiji-dowager, was a bloodline of some potency.

And that alliance would tie the west coast firmly to Malguri, which was Cajeiri’sinheritance, until he produced an heir for it.

God. On the chessboard of politics, that was a potential earthquake. The great houses employed not only numbers experts, they employed genealogists to track this sort of thing. They would see it—but they likely would give way to it, in the interests of peace.

“One would agree,” Geigi said, “if this can be arranged.”

“Good, good,” Ilisidi said. “So you may think on it and tell me your thoughts when you have had time to mull it over. Perhaps we should have our last round and let you get to your bed, Geigi-ji. You must be exhausted.”

“One admits to it,” Geigi said. “And I shall indeed think on your proposal, ’Sidi-ji. I shall think on it very favorably.” He turned then to Toby and Barb, and said, in very passable ship-speak: “We discuss politics. Unavoidable. One wishes a more tranquil conversation.”

“An extravagant honor, nandi,” Toby said, one of his courtly phrases of Ragi. “One is gratified by your notice.”

He got it out without saying orange drink, a close thing, with the word notice. Bren was astonished.

But then—Toby had spent the last couple of years running messages between the Resistance and the Island, and his vocabulary hadn’t exactly rusted.

“You speak a fair amount of Ragi, nandi,” Geigi said.

“About boats, navigation, hello, and goodbye, nandi.”

“- se,” Bren tossed in, the felicitous false-one, since Toby had given a list of infelicitous four. It was natural as breathing.

“- se,” Toby added in the next breath. “We hear, but do not talk, nandi.”

Geigi laughed. “ Verywell done!” And continued, in ship-speak: “The station knows you as Frozen Dessert.”

Toby and Barb both laughed.

Frozen Dessert? Bren wondered.

“Our code name,” Toby said to Bren, “when the authorities had to refer to us.”

Bren translated that for the dowager, and for Cajeiri. “That was the word referring to them and their boat, during the Resistance, aiji-ma, young gentleman. When they were running messages.”

“And bravely done!” Geigi said. “The enemy would appear and the dessert would melt in the sun.”

“Little boat,” Toby said in Ragi. “Hard to spot.”

“Very good work,” Geigi said in ship-speak, and in Ragi: “Tell them that they will be welcome as my personal guests in Kajiminda, when I have done a little housecleaning.”

“He says you’re welcome as his guests at Kajiminda when he has things there under control,” Bren said, thinking the while that Geigi could not possibly follow through on that, and, please God, would never have to give up his station post to do so. But there was another round of polite sentiments, all the same.

Then a tap of the dowager’s cane. “We must let this gentleman get to his bed, paidhi-ji.”

“Indeed, aiji-ma.” As host, he made the suggestion. “Geigi-ji, please let my staff escort you to your rooms.”

Geigi’s bodyguard, among other things, had to be bone-tired, exhausted, after standing the last while, and those two still needed to brief and debrief with the rest of his aishid, and with the aiji-dowager’s people. Theyhad several more hours to go before they saw their beds.

“We are quite weary,” Geigi said obligingly, and in a series of small signals, the dowager gathering up her cane and signaling Cenedi; and Bren, as host, making a sign to Banichi and Jago, Geigi gathered his considerable bulk up from his chair, everyone got up, and there were goodnight bows all around as he left. Cajeiri and Barb and Toby hung back until the dowager and Geigi had gotten out the door.

For Bren, exhaustion came down on him, not just for this day, but for several days before. He waited while Cajeiri joined his bodyguard on the way out; and then heaved a deep sigh, feeling the effects of just about two sips too much brandy. “So sorry you have to hike down to the boat,” he said to Barb and Toby. And added: “Very well done, extremely well done. Frozen Dessert.”

They laughed, assured him an after-dinner hike wasn’t at all a hard thing for them, and he walked them to the door.

Then, in an attack of unease, and thinking of that long, dark set of steps amid the scrub evergreen, and that exposed dock below, he said to Banichi and Jago: “Nadiin-ji, one hates to ask, but would you go with them?”

“Yes,” Banichi said. “Let us pick up some equipment, and we shall be glad to do so.”

“I hate to bother them,” Toby protested. “Surely just house staff—”

“—is in no wise equipped to take care of untoward situations,” he said. “Indulge me. Geigi’s just arrived, with all that means. If our enemies aren’t asleep or more disrupted than we think, they’ll know he’s here, they’ll know meetings are going on, they’ll want more than anything to know what we’ve said, and I’m almost inclined to move out some more staff and house you two in the basement with Baiji tonight. Frozen Dessert, indeed. You’re too well informed. Scarily well-informed. And I don’t want the Marid getting their hands on you.”

“Is thatall?” Toby laughed. “I thought it was brotherly concern.”

“That, too, is somewhere in the stew. Just take the protection. And if you’re harboring any moresecrets, bring me up to date on them.”

“Oh, you knew we were running messages. Most of the time we didn’t have a clue about the content. At least on thisside of the water.”

“But you did know what Mospheira was up to.”

“Nothing not well-known now.”

“The Marid may not think so. You’re just a bit more fluent than makes me comfortable, brother. Unguessed talents.” That Toby had never outright told him how fluent he was getting— that bothered him; but Toby worked for Shawn, the President of Mospheira, the way he himself had once worked for Shawn in the State Department, and there were secrets and secrets in government employ.

“It’s getting better,” Toby said lightly. “I haven’t been around people talking before. I’m starting to pick out words. Figure out others.”

“I still can’t put a sentence together,” Barb said. “Toby’s far braver about that. But we absorb things. I’m picking up a lot about the boat from the work crews.”

“Well, you just be careful going down there, and get the hell away from dock if you don’t like the look of what’s headed your way. Even if you just get nervous. Stand off from shore and be ready to get out to the middle of the bay if you don’t like the feel of things at any time you’re down there. Better a little inconvenience than a mistake the other way.”

“Got it,” Toby said, and by then Banichi and Jago were coming back, carrying rifles, and with their outdoor jackets on— bulletproof and heavy as sin.

No surprise to Toby or Barb, who were used to Guild working gear. Bren saw them all out the door.

“Kindly go straight to the room and stay there, nandi,” Jago said.

“I shall,” he promised her. “Immediately.”

And he walked straight in that direction the moment the front door shut.

His two personal staff, Koharu and Supani, weren’t long arriving in his suite, a characteristic knock on the outermost door. Staff in the hall would have reported he was retiring, and his valets showed up almost before he’d gotten his own coat off.

He handed the garment in question to Supani, who hung it on a hanger, and that on a hook on the door: the coat would go away with them and come back refreshed and pressed by morning. Likewise the shirt and trousers and the ribbon that tied his queue, which he finger-combed out. He automatically sat down and let Koharu apply a brush to his past-the-shoulder hair.

Felt good. Took away tensions of the day.

Pop-pop-pop from outside. From down the hill.

Gunfire. He leapt up, headed for the other room and the door. Supani chased him down with a dressing gown and insisted on helping him.

“Tano and Algini!” he said, and Koharu understood and ran, outpacing him as he made the hall along with four of Ilisidi’s men and Cenedi himself, Cenedi giving directions as more of that company showed up from the lower hall.

Bren reached the library, where Tano and Algini still sat at stations and the two assigned to Cajeiri hovered by. “Get to the young gentleman!” Bren snapped, and those two went, leaving him room to reach Tano and Algini in the cramped quarters.

“Movement, nandi, down by the dock,” Tano said, “and up by the house.”

He didn’t distract them with questions: Algini was talking in code, probably to Banichi and Jago, maybe to units disposed about the grounds, and Tano’s eyes never left his screens.

“Sector 14 now,” Tano said into his own microphone.

Whether intruders were incoming or outgoing in sector 14 one had no idea, but it was too near the downhill walkway. Bren hovered and kept quiet. He could see that blinking sector for himself, some distance off the walkway where Banichi and Jago would be.

He didn’t know who had been firing, except the one from Ilisidi’s young men on the roof. He hoped it was Banichi and Jago taking a few shots at intruders and not the other way around. He hoped Toby and Barb kept their heads down. They hadn’t had time for it to be just Banichi and Jago on the return.

“Somebody should check the boats,” he muttered.

“Someone is doing that, Bren-ji,” Tano said. “Both boats. And our own perimeter.” His eyes never left the screens. “It may be diversion. We have called the village and set them on alert.”

Damn, he thought. The aiji’s men hadn’tcleared out all the problem. They’d gotten Kajiminda cleaned up, they’d gone after the lot down in Separti Township, but very possibly people had gotten out of Separti. Some might have escaped by sea, and some might have headed overland, to take the long land route to the Marid. Some might not have left at all, but gone to set up bases in the wild lands, the hunting reserves, between the coastal villages of Sarini Province and the Maschi territoryc bases that could continue to be a problem until hunted down.

How many Guild agents might the Marid have deployed in the district? Unfortunately, a lot, if one counted any Guild who had been supporting Murinic who might have headed down to the Marid as a way to escape retribution.

He really, really didn’t like that line of reasoning. He stood very still, just watching the retreat of intrusion in a series of lit-up squares. Which could be a real retreat, or simply designed to divert attention from something breaching their perimeter elsewhere.

He stood still so long his arm, leaning on Tano’s chair, began to tire, and his eyes, focused on those screens, to dry out from want of blinking. He shifted position slightly and did blink.

The Guild’s actions were like that. Patient waiting, interspersed with a few moments of adrenaline.

They were back to the patient waiting. Which was almost as bad as the adrenaline.

“Are our people safe?” he asked.

“All reporting, Bren-ji.”

Our peopleincluded his brother, Barb, and the two people he loved most in the world.

And the fact Tano and Algini were sitting there dead calm and completely unemotional meant only that they were on the job and not sparing a thought to personal relationships with anybody. They continued nonstop observing, listening and, with small key-clicks, aiming sensors and communicating with various people about the groundsc all of whom were evidently reporting in or responding in some fashion.

Bren waited for another length of time before saying, very quietly, without inflection: “If it is safer for Banichi and Jago to bring their wards back to the house tonight, we shall certainly find room.”

“It may indeed be safer,” Algini said, and plied keys, a series of fast clicks. He said then: “They agree.”

The next while, extricating two valuable and highly visible targets, namely two pale-skinned humans, from a difficult position on the lower walk—that took some time, and Bren stood and listened for part of it.

But then he decided he could be of somewhat more use than that, so he went out to the hall, and asked Ramaso, who had appointed himself to hall duty during the disturbance, to make ready two beds belowstairs.

“Indeed,” Ramaso said. “Please delay them with hospitality upstairs, nandi, and there will be space for them as fast as possible.”

“One doubts they will sleep immediately,” he said, and turned to find Antaro and Nawari both, one an emissary from Cajeiri and one from Ilisidi, and then Lord Geigi himself coming out into the hall, to find out what was going on. Lord Geigi, like him, was in his night-robe, but not, like him, with his hair undone. Bren felt a little heat touch his face, a little embarrassment at that, and so surely must Ramaso, but there were more important things afoot than a little impropriety. “Geigi-ji,” he said. “What a welcome we have given you!”

“My staff informs me your brother and his lady are turning back.”

“Indeed. It seems safer.”

“It must,” Geigi said. “Infelicity on the Marid and all its houses! No one will sleep for hours, and my fool of a nephew should not be the exception. Let your staff inform him I shall speak to him directly after breakfast and that the activities of his associates tonight have placed me in no good mood toward him! I would deal with him tonight, except I want my wits about me!”

The middle door opened. Cajeiri turned up, putting his head out. “Are we safe, nand’ Bren?”

“At the moment we appear to be, young gentleman. Go back to bed.”

Cajeiri likewise was in a night-robe, and barefoot, with hishair streaming over his shoulders.

And Ilisidi’s door opened. Cenedi himself arrived, in boots and trousers, and with braid intact, and obviously wanted answers.

“Nand’ Toby and Barb-daja are coming back to the house tonight, Cenedi-ji.” Which was stupid to say: of course Cenedi knew that part of it already. Guild in protection of their lord were never out of touch with the rest of their number. What Cenedi didn’t know was the arrangement he had just ordered in the household. “We are lodging them downstairs. If the dowager would wish a quieting cup of tea in the study, we might arrange that.” It came to him that, besides his study, which he needed for his own urgent business in straightening this mess out, they didhave the sitting room they could convert to sleeping quarters.

But that had its own necessary function in the house, the meeting place, the only place besides the dining room that could accommodate them all; and the dining room was just—not the place one discussed business. Impossible, he thought distractedly. And anyroom downstairs was bigger than the cabin Barb and Toby shared on the boat.

Two beds, he had told Ramaso. Were they going to think he was making a statement?

“The dowager will take tea,” Cenedi said, “but will not receive visitors tonight, nandi.”

“Mandi-ji.” Bren snared a passing servant, who skidded to a fast halt. “Tea for the dowager. Tea for any guest who wants it.”

“I shall take some myself,” Geigi said, “with teacakes, should there be any at this hour, nadi.”

“So would we like teacakes,” Cajeiri said. “My staff would, too.”

Where a boy Cajeiri’s size proposed to put more food after that supper, God only knew. “See to it,” Bren said to the servant, and as Samandri took out at all decorous speed: “Cenedi-ji, can your people supply security to the front door while we open it for Banichi and Jago?”

“We are already in position, nandi. And they are on their way.”

“Of course.” He found himself exhausted. “Forgive me, nadi-ji.”

“We are glad the paidhi has an accurate sense of these things,” Cenedi said diplomatically. “I shall see to the front door myself,” he added, “being in the vicinity. By your leave, nandi.”

“Please do,” he said. The others had gone back to their rooms. It was his job, as the lingering visible civilian, to get himself out of the hall and back out of the Guild’s way. The one moment that might provoke renewed attack, were there any enemy still in position, would be a door opening, and their guard needed no distractions in protecting them from more dings in the woodwork.

So he went back to the library, where Tano and Algini reported Banichi and Jago were now at the portico, and then that they were coming in. He watched the lights that indicated the opening and then the safe shutting of the front door, he heard the thump of the bar going into place, and headed back out into the hall again.

Banichi and Jago looked unruffled. Barb and Toby, in their company, were dirty and disheveled, their boating whites scuffed and bearing traces of dirt and evergreen. It was likely Banichi and Jago had landed on them, or thrown them into the bushes with a force they would have considered only adequate.

“Well, here we are again,” Toby said with a shaky laugh, “like bad pennies. Sorry about that, brother.”

“Just thank God you made it—and thank God I sent Banichi and Jago with you! Who fired?” The last he asked in Ragi, and Jago said:

“We did, nandi. We had a security alert, and a sure target. The dowager’s men are searching the grounds. They will report. We stayed with our principals.”

“One is profoundly grateful,” he said. “Are youall right?” Jago was nursing a stitched-up wound from the lastfracas. And one didn’t ask Guild to admit to injuries in outsider hearing, but Barb and Toby were not exactly outsiders, and Jago nodded with, he thought, honesty.

“One remains a little sore,” she said, “nandi. But their return fire was not accurate.”

“It might have been, without you. Thank you. Thank you profoundly, nadiin-ji.”

“Thank you,” Toby added in Ragi, on his own behalf, with a correct little bow, and Barb echoed, in fairly bad Ragi, but with the correct addition of a third—consciously or not, “Thank you two, and Bren.”

“Indeed,” Banichi said, returning the bow.

“Go where you need to go,” Bren said. There was debriefing yet to do, and two of Cenedi’s men had come into the hall. “Rest. We are guarded, here.”

Banichi smiled, a little amused at him, but he frankly didn’t care. He was tired, his guard was tired, and Barb and Toby had just been through enough to keep them awake the rest of the night. Servants had shown up. He said to them: “I shall see nand’ Toby and Barb-daja in my study while staff prepares their bath. Send another pot of calmative tea to my office. And brandy. They will surely wish to sit a moment.”

“Nandi.” Two servants sped on different missions, and Banichi and Jago had headed for the library/security station. Bren directed Barb and Toby to his office door, opened it, and brought them inside.

They took chairs, gratefully but cautiously. “I’m afraid we’ll get dirt on the carpet,” Toby said. “Let alone the upholstery. Is my backside clean?”

“Honorable dirt,” Bren said, a rough translation of the Ragi proverb. “The staff will gladly clean it, and the chairs are tougher than they look. There’s a bath downstairs. They’re setting up. I’ve ordered a sedative tea. It’s fairly strong. Harmless to us. And a very good thing at times. Add a shot of brandy and you won’t wake til morning.”

“I wished I’d had my gun,” Toby said, “which is, of course, down on the boat.”

“Well, well, but you’re on the mainland, where professionals handle that sort of thing,” Bren said. “Unfortunately it means professionals on the other side, too.”

“That’s certainly a downside,” Barb laughed. She moved to brush back her hair and she was shaking. She looked at her hand as if it were a foreign object and made it into a fist, resting on the chair. “I guess the other side isn’t through trying, is it?”

In that moment he forgave Barb a lot. He looked at the two of them, his quasi-ex and his brother, and saw a pairc not the woman he’d have picked for Toby, but then, Barb lent Toby just enough of her predatory selfish streak to keep him from flinging himself on grenades and Toby lent Barb enough of his sense of stability and loyalty to keep her better side in the ascendant. Toby the rock. Toby the damned self-sacrificing fool. Barb wanted somebody who’d always be there—even if she had to follow him in and out of irregular harbors under fire, as it appeared: this the woman who’d lived for nightclubs and fancy gowns.

“Good for both of you,” he said, and meant it fervently.

“Just so damned glad you sent Banichi and Jago.”

“I assure you, you and whoever else went with you would have been under watch the whole route down to the boat, but you don’t have my skills at falling flat in the dirt on cue.”

“I’ll be faster at it, after this,” Toby said. “ Banichishoved me flat. I think I’ll remember that fact tomorrow morning.”

Bren laughed, well familiar with that sensation, which involved the relocation of every vertebra in one’s neck and back, not to mention the meeting with the ground.

And just then a knock at the door heralded the servant with the tea service, the very historic tea service—the others must be elsewhere disposed—the cups of which Toby and Barb took with dirty fingers, ever so carefully.

“This is beautiful,” Barb said, looking carefully at the cup. Barb had an eye for assessing things. “But my hands are shaking.”

“They won’t, in a moment. Thirteenth century, that service. Best the house has. —Thank you, nadi,” he said to the servant. “Please wait.” And took his own sip of tea. “Your boat will be safe. Someone is checking out both the boats, yours and mine, just to be sure.”

“So grateful,” Toby murmured. “You think of everything, brother.”

“I have no few brains working on problems for me,” he said. “So I don’t have to be brilliant.”

“I never appreciated a house like this,” Toby said. “I’m starting to understand it. In all senses. It’s not all tea and cookies, is it?”

“It’s a village of its own,” he said. “It defends itself pretty well, and we all take care of each other. Staff smuggled most every stick of furniture and set of china, even whole carpets, out of my Bujavid apartment when the Bujavid was being taken over. They got it on trains right under the opposition’s noses and had it and key staff members collected here at Najida before Murini’s people knew they were missing. And some of my staff, Murini’s people would particularly have liked to lay hands on, but they weren’t about to come in here to get themc Najida being part of Najida Peninsula, which is part of the west coast, which is Edi territory, Murini didn’t want his agents cracking thategg, for fear of what might hatch and raise holy hell. But you know that, Frozen Dessert.”

“Even the Marid,” Toby said, “was scared to take on your staff.”

“I think so. They’d organized. That was everything. Favor Ramaso for that. Ramaso and his connections. No small advantage to me, in all this.”

One cup gone, and Barb stifled a yawn. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry, Bren.”

“That’s the intent,” Bren said. The sedative was hitting his system, too, and he set the precious cup aside on the desk. The attending servant, part of the furniture until that moment, instantly collected it, collected Barb’s, and Toby finished his in a last swallow and handed the cup over.

“Nadi,” Bren said, delaying the servant a moment, and gave him the incidental instruction to inform Geigi’s nephew that his uncle was annoyed as hell and would talk to him in the morning.

“So we’re downstairs,” Toby said.

“Two of the youngest servants will have given you their quarters,” Bren said. He could guess the names. “There’s the servants’ bath, down there, servant’s kitchen, where you may find snacks at any time of night—but just ask the staff. They’ll be happier to provide it for you on a tray.”

“Better than Port Jackson’s best hotel,” Toby said, and then realized: “I don’t have my shaving kit. Or either of us a change of clothes, what’s worse. Everything’s on the boat.”

“Trust staff. They’ll see to you. Pile your clothes outside the door and they’ll turn up clean by dawn.”

“God,” Toby said. “Thank the staff for us.”

“I have,” Bren said, and got up, as Toby and Barb levered themselves up with considerably more stiffness. “Soak in a hot tub, mandatory. Atevi manners. Then bed. You’re sleeping in a fortress. Let staff do the worrying tonight, too.”

“Good night,” Toby said, and hugged him, and Barb did, sister-like. Brother-like, he wanted to ruffle her hair, he was so pleased with her at the moment, sedative tea and all, but Barb was perfectly capable of building that gesture into a fantasy, and he didn’t want to upset the sense of balance they’d found, at least for the night.

“Good night,” he said, and showed them out into the hall, and pointed them the way to the downstairs, down by the dining hall, before he headed for his own room, and found his two valets on his track before he got there.

“Nadiin-ji,” he said, feeling warm and cared-for and very, very lucky. He let them rescue his clothes, and flung himself into bed on the aftereffects of the tea, eyes shut immediately.

Jago would come to bed soon. Her sleeping with him was the arrangement that let his staff fit into the library with their equipment. But he was too sleepy to wait for her.

7

« ^ »

Lord Geigi might have interviewed his nephew in his nephew’s room downstairs, and Bren had expected he would do so. But that venue would have been a bit cramped for the interested audience it turned out to have drawn—himself among them. Geigi had indicated the dowager would of course be welcome; and of course the paidhi-aji, and then Cajeiri had managed to attach himself to his grandmother, and they all came with their requisite security, six persons—Tano and Algini were on active duty with Bren this morning, while Banichi and Jago, avoiding formal uniform after a long day yesterday, stayed at the consoles in their station.

“There is the sitting room,” Bren said to Geigi, so the sitting-room it was, a natural enough retreat after a good breakfast—in which Baiji did not share. Geigi did not let anticipation hurry him at all. They quietly took tea once they reached the sitting room. They waited, and chatted about affairs on the station.

The mood was jovial, even—so pleasant that when the dowager’s guards—her personnel being in greatest abundance for such duties—escorted Baiji upstairs and into the sitting-room, Geigi scarcely paid him attention, savoring a last cup of tea, apparently indifferent.

Baiji was in a sad state this morning—sweating, as pale as an ateva could manage, and abjectly down of countenance. He gave a very deep bow to his uncle, who did not so much as acknowledge the fact, and quietly subsided into the chair the servants had placed central to the arc the other chairs, made the potential focus of all attention, if anyone had looked at him.

No one said anything for a moment. Baiji kept his mouth shut. Then:

“What happened to your mother?” Geigi asked directly and suddenly, and as Baiji immediately opened his mouth and started to stammer something: “Be careful!” Geigi snapped at him. “On this answer a great deal else rests!”

Baiji shut his mouth for a moment and wrung his hands, which otherwise were shaking.

“Uncle, I—”

“Who am I?”

“My uncle, lord of Sarini province, lord of Kajimindac”

“I am less than certain you may call me uncle,” Geigi said mercilessly. “I have not yet heard my answer.”

Baiji bowed his head over his hands. “Uncle, I—”

“My answer, boy! Now!”

“I fear now—one fears they may have killed her.”

“Do you, indeed? And is this a recent realization?”

“Only since I came here. Nand’ Bren said it, and I cannot forget it. Day and night, I cannot forget it! I am sorry, Uncle! I am infinitely sorry.”

“You disrespected your mother. You disregarded her good opinion when she was alive. You ignored her orders. You did everything at your own convenience or for your own benefit, with never a thought about her wishes or her comfort, or her respect. Am I mistaken?”

A lengthy silence, while Baiji studied the carpet in front of his feet.

“I regret it. I regret it, honored Uncle. I wish she were alive.”

“So do I,” Geigi said grimly. “But I would not wish her the sight I now have of her son, nadi.”

“Uncle, —”

“Do not appeal to me in her name! You used up that credit long ago. Muster virtue of your own. Can you find any to offer?”

“I see my faults,” Baiji said weakly. “Uncle, I know I am not fit to be lord of Kajiminda.”

“No, you are not. Have you any interest in becoming fit for anything?”

“The aiji-dowager has suggested—”

“I know what she has suggested.”

“One would be very glad of such terms.”

“I daresay you should be. Liberty there will not be, not until we have unraveled this mess you have made. Have you any excuse for yourself?”

One sincerely hoped Baiji had the intelligence not to offer any. Bren sat biting his lip on this untidy scene and watched Baiji bow repeatedly.

“One gave the papers to nand’ Bren. One saved every shred of correspondence with these people in the Marid.”

“Self-protection and blackmail hardly count. Had you attempted to use such things from the position you had made yourself, you would have been dead by sundown. You hardly have the courage to have taken them to Shejidan and given them to the aiji. Did you attempt that?”

“One feared he would not view them in any good light.”

“One doubts there is a light in which to view them that would cast you in any credit whatsoever. I shall offer you several suggestions, the first of which is that you abandon any illusion you ever will rule anything.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“The second is that you do not attempt to negotiate with anyone in secrecy from me and from the aiji-dowager, who has offered a handsome marriage for you, and the saving of your life.”

“One would be grateful, Uncle.”

“Did you hear the first part of that? Do I need to break it down for you?”

“I shall never deal with any other people, Uncle.”

“The third is that you take pen and paper to your room and begin a list of every name you know in the Marid, every person you have had contact with directly or indirectly, including subordinates and Guild. Have you had any message from my former wife?”

“No, Uncle. Not directly.”

“Indirectly.”

“She—she vouched for the first person to contact me.”

“Who was?”

“Corini of Amarja.”

“How good is your memory, nephew?”

“I can remember the names, uncle.”

“I suggest you go do so. The marriage that will be your sole salvation depends on the output of your memory and the speed and accuracy of your writing. Do you understand that? Make every connection clear. Provide us your best estimate of these connections and differentiate the ones you know from the ones you suspect. Provide us a list of the things they offered you, and the dates so far as you can reconstruct them, and no, you may nothave access to the documents you provided to nand’ Bren. Let us see the quality of your memory and the functioning of your wit. It may be instructive for you.”

A deep bow, clasped hands to the forehead in profound apology. “I shall, Uncle. I shall. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“What have been your dealings with Lord Pairuti of the Maschi?”

“None.” A deep breath and shake of the head. “He commiserated with me about my mother and wished me well on my taking up Kajiminda. That was all. He never helped me. He never came to call.”

“Nor did you call on him? It would have been courteous.”

“I intended to, Uncle.”

“Appalling,” Geigi said with a shake of his head, and looked toward Ilisidi. “Does the aiji-dowager have any questions for this infelicitous person?”

“One believes you are setting him on a useful program,” Ilisidi said, and looked at Cajeiri. “Great-grandson, this is a bad example. Have youany advice for this wretch?”

“He should obey his uncle,” Cajeiri said.

“Good advice,” Ilisidi said. “Very good advice. —Do you hearit, nadi? One recommends you hear it!”

“One hears it,” Baiji said faintly. “One hears it, aiji-ma.”

“Go,” Geigi said with a wave of his hand. “Go downstairs! Begin your writing! Immediately!”

Baiji gathered himself up and bowed three times, to Ilisidi, to Geigi, and to Bren, then headed to the door—Guild instantly positioning themselves inside and outside to make sure he made it to the door without detours. Ilisidi’s young men gathered him into their possession in the hall, taking him back to his cell in the basement, and Geigi let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

“Time has not improved him. One hoped, during the time we had no communication. One hoped, having no better choice when the shuttles were not flying—but that I believed his unsubstantiated reports that things were in order—it was my fault, aiji-ma. I left him in charge too long.”

“If you had come back to Kajiminda while he was in charge, you would surely have died,” Ilisidi said, “whether or not your nephew was in on it. About that, we make no judgement—yet. One only offers belated condolences for your loss, Geigi-ji.”

“It will be my highest priority, aiji-ma, to find out what happened—starting with my staff. There is no word of them? No word, perhaps, from the Grandmother of Najida? One hopes she is not too put out with me.”

Bren started to say he had had no word. Ilisidi said, crisply: “After lunch, one believes.”

After lunch, Bren thought in some disquiet. Ilisidi had done more than take over the estate. She had taken over communication with the village. And, one hoped, security for the coming and going involved.

“I shall go to my rooms and have my thoughts in order, then,” Geigi said. “One will expect the Grandmother of the Edi at whatever time she chooses to visit. My gratitude, aiji-ma, nandi.” He gathered himself from his chair, moving slowly, looking, at the moment, very sad.

One wished one could do something. But what could be done—seemed out of the paidhi’s hands at the moment.

So for the next while, they had one very worried Baiji down in the basement with a stack of paper and a pen. They had Geigi relaxing in his quarters with a plate of teacakes and a pot of tea. They had the dowager busy phoning Shejidan and sending messages to Najida andover to Kajiminda, apparently couriered by the village truck.

Soc it was a chance for the paidhi-aiji to get to his office and do some fast research in the massive post-coup data files he had gulped down months ago and had only moderate time to sort throughc what lord was currently in charge of what province, since the Troubles; what was the situation of the clan and family, and what were the affiliations and associations— all these things—notably regarding the west coast and the Marid. In a land that knew no hard and fast boundaries, among people who viewed overlap of associational territories as entirely ordinary, allegiances shifted in total disregard of physical boundaries.

Impossible to draw any meaningful atevi map except in shades of those relationships, in which the likelihood of various families having ties outside, say, a province, increased markedly as one approached a quasi-border—and so did the likelihood of various families having bloodfeuds on the other side of the almost-border.

The west coast was a case of shells within shells within shells, all overlapping circles of territory and past agreements. The whole district had a long history of warfare, sniping, assassinations, political marriages, and simple trade-marriages, where two families made arrangements for business association in the only coin that lasted centuries: blood-ties. Marriages.

Exactly what Ilisidi proposed for Baijic and what Geigi was interested in, not only for Kajiminda, which he ruled; but also for Maschi clan. The current head of Maschi clan was Pairuti. That, Bren knew.

Records confirmed that Pairuti had come to formal court in Shejidan during the days when Murini was in power, paying the expected visit to new authority, and probably really worried about getting back home alive.

Pairuti had come to Shejidan when Tabini had come back to power, paying the expected courtesy, and had probably really worried about his life then, too. Pairuti had not written a letter to Shejidan when Geigi’s sister had died—had let Baiji step right into the lordship with never a protest ora request for external review of the succession, during Murini’s rule; evidently he had simply approved the inheritance.

It would have been so useful if Pairuti had had the sense and the nerve to do something, considering Lord Geigi stranded in space and no shuttles flying, with a spoiled brat about to take over the administration of Kajiminda, in its strategic location.

But then, Pairuti wasc over ninety years old, with four sons and two daughters by several marriagesc all mature and married.

More searching of the database. Two sons by a wife from the northern clans. One daughter by a remote relative of the Taibeni Ragi, central district. One daughter and a son by a local wife, out of the Koga, a Maschi subclan, no useful power games there, at least for the Maschi, unless the game was stabilization or paying off a local debt. Maybe it had been honest attraction on Pairuti’s part. But interspersed between the Ragi wife and the Koga, back when Geigi himself had had a marriage into the Marid, Pairuti, then in his seventies, had contract-married one Lujo, daughter of Haiduni, in the Senjin Marid.

The Senjin. Neighbors to the Farai, who were currently sitting in hisapartment, pending Tabini throwing them outc

Geigi himself, in the old days, had had very troublesome associations: had been an associate of several people in the Samiusi districtc had had a wife out of the Samiusi clan of the Taisigin Marid, a woman—the names floated past, jostling old memory—affiliated with Hagrani clan of the Taisigi, who was (he needed no help to remember this one) related to the current bad piece of business in the Marid—Machigi, who was clan-head of the Taisigi and lord in Tanaja at age twenty-two.

Thatwas a coupling of power, intelligence, and raw inexperiencec bad business, which Geigi had shed very definitively. Geigi had fallen out with the Marid when he discovered his Samiusi wife had been playing games with the Kajiminda books and trying to bankrupt him. Thathad driven Geigi straight into Tabini’s camp, where he had stayed ever since.

God knew what Pairuti’s Marid wife had been up to on the other side of the shared quasi-border, what kind of financial mess and political tangle Maschi clan proper had gotten into because of that tie—

And it was a fairly delicate matter to bring up with Geigi. Forgive me, Geigi-jic when you divorced your wife, what did you advise Pairuti to do about his?

Pairuti hadn’t divorced the woman. The contract had eventually ended and she had gone home to her clan. But a lordly marriage—servants came into the household with the arriving spouse, and melded with household staff, and got children of their own, and lines mixed, and connections lasted for generations. It wasn’t just the lords that needed watching.

There’d just been too much going on for the aishidi’tat as a whole to keep a very close eye on the Maschi, in their critical position. Geigi, who was actually far more powerful in the aishidi’tat than Pairuti, had probably been wielding his worldwide influence with a little delicacy when it came to dealing with his own rural clan. Geigi hadn’t involved himself in Maschi affairsc had drawn his servant staff from among the Edi, who did notmarry outsiders, or much associate with them. Even when Geigi had had a Marid wife, infiltrating his staff would have been very, very hard for the Marid.

Not so, with Pairuti.

Most troublesome of all, the Maschi clan lord hadn’t given Baiji any help or advice at all, to hear Baiji tell it—whether thinking that it was Geigi’s business who ruled in Kajiminda— or just being scared of Baiji’s suitors.

They needed to know. They needed either to support Pairuti, and help him clean house—or to deal with Pairuti’s situation. An aging lord, perhaps having accumulated a lot of problems on staff—they could sit here at Najida trying to fix Kajiminda, which had ceased to be a threat—but ignoring Pairuti, given what they had learned, that was a potential problem.

He jotted down the text of a letter:

The paidhi-aiji, neighbor to Kajiminda at Najida, newly arrived in his estate after long absence, wishes officially to extend salutations to the clan of his neighbor Geigi of the Maschi.We are informing ourselves and Tabini-aiji of the dangerous situation that has placed Kajiminda in difficulty and would be interested to hear the opinions of the lord of Maschi clan regarding the situation.We rejoice in the safe return of Lord Geigi to rule Kajiminda and will be assisting him wherein we are useful.We wish to arrange a meeting with Maschi clan as soon as possible. Thatshould scare hell out of the old fellow, if he had been playing both sides of the table. Let him wonder what had happened to Baijic if his wife’s former staff connections didn’t tell him.

So the Marid had made their move: Machigi, the twenty-two-year-old head of the Taisigin Marid, had used his neighbors like chess pieces, and likely had inherited the game from his predecessors.

Machigi had assumed power at twenty-one, meaning that he had notarranged Pairuti’s marriage, but he hadcome into his office with Murini’s rise—had fairly well come into his power right when Murini had taken over in Shejidan.

So he would have been directing Marid moves, and if somebody had intended Murini’s assassination when he ceased to be useful, that would be Machigi.

Another small search, instant to the screen.

Guild reports on Machigi agreed he dominated his advisors and not the other way around. The latest report said two of his advisors were now dead, who had mildly argued against him.

That seemed fairly definitive, didn’t it?

Machigi had been in power during the probable assassination of Geigi’s sister, the courtship of Baiji, the assassination of the girl Baiji had claimed to be interested in—and her whole family—the establishment of Marid Guild in Separti and Dalaigi Township, the takeover of Kajiminda, the attempt on the paidhi’s lifec and probably collusion with the Farai in keeping the paidhi out of his Bujavid apartment, while setting up in that apartment at least to spy on Tabini, if not to attempt to assassinate him.

For twenty-two, young Machigi was developing quite a record.

The paidhi-aiji’s proper business was to interpret human reactions to atevi actions, and to let Tabini-aiji determine policy and do the moving. But paidhi-aiji was not all he was. Tabini-aiji had appointed him Lord of the Heavens andLord of Najida: and Najida was under seige.

He found himself no longer neutral, no longer willing to support whatever authority turned up in charge on the mainland. He had started with a slight preference, and it had become an overwhelming one. He had long ago stopped working for Mospheiran interests. Now he moved a little away from Tabini-aiji. He wanted certain people currently under this roof to stay alivec and he had to admit to himself his reasoning was not all cold-blooded, logical policy. He caredabout certain people. He believed—at least on some objective evidence—that their survival was important to policy. But caredand believedwere not words his professional training encouraged. He walked cautiously around these affections, which atevi would not even understand, outside the clan structure. He examined them from all sides, examined his own motives—he didn’t trust his loss of objectivity, and he didn’t at all trust his personal attachment to the individuals involvedc

But, damn it, if anything happened to certain people he’d—

He wasn’t up to filing Intent on Machigi. He didn’t want to put his security team in that position, for one thing: he didn’t have the apparatus necessary to take on a provincial lord who had five tributary regions attached to him, each with its own force of Assassins. It would be suicide—for the people he was most attached to. And that course of action wouldn’t help the situation.

And he wasn’t wholly sure he wanted Tabini-aiji to file Intent on his behalf, either, even if he could manipulate the situation to make that happen. Going after Machigi in an Assassins’ war would be messy. It would cost lives, as things stood now, and Machigi had far too many assets. Those had to be peeled away first.

Add to that the fact that Tabini was relying on a new security team—good men; but Tabini had lost the aishid that had protected him literally from boyhood, a terrible, terrible loss, on an emotional scale. He had lost a second one, which had turned out unreliable. The emotional blow thathad dealt someone whose psyche resonated to loyalties-offered and loyalties-owed, he could only imagine.

So Tabini himself was proceeding carefully since his return to powerc trusting his new team, but only step by step figuring out how far he could rely on them, both in how good they were, and how committed they were. Extremely committed, Bren thought; but Tabini might be just a little hesitant, this first year of his return, to take on the Marid, who had defied him from the beginning of his career.

Caution wasn’t the way he was used to Tabini operating. Reckless attack wasn’t the way Tabini was used to the paidhi-aiji operating, either. Of all people in the world—the paidhi was not a warlike soul. But the fact was, of persons closest to Tabini, the ones with aishidiin that absolutely werebriefed to the hilt and capable of taking on Machigi—amounted to the paidhi-aiji and the aiji-dowager.

God, wasn’t thata terrifying thought? He was grateful beyond anything he could say that Tabini, lacking protection, hadn’tyanked Banichi and Jago back to his own service. He couldn’t imagine the emotion-laced train of atevi thought that had persuaded Tabini notto do that—well as he knew the man, when it got down to an emotional choice, he couldn’timagine and shouldn’t ever imagine he did. Just say that Tabini hadn’t taken them. Tabini had left the paidhi-aiji’s protection intact and taken on a new aishid, himself. Man’chi, that sense of group and self that drove atevi logic, had been disrupted in the aiji’s household, and had to be rebuilt slowly, along with trust. And until that could happen—Tabini was on thin ice, personally and publicly. Tabini neededhelp. Tabini was, damn it, temporizingwith minor clans like the Farai, when, before, he would have swept them away with the back of his hand.

Meanwhile, starting during Murini’s brief career, Machigi had almost won the west coast, a prize the Marid had been pursuing for two hundred years. He’d come damned close to doing it, except for the paidhi-aiji taking a vacation on the coast. And now things were happening—the Edi organizing and gaining a domain, for one thing—that were not going to make Machigi happy.

Damned sure, Machigi was going to do something—and they were notstrong, here. Tabini’s organization was weakened. The paidhi-aiji was understaffed, always, and the aiji-dowager was operating in a territory completely foreign to her, taking actions she’d wanted to take for decades, but risking herself and the whole Eastern connection to the aishidi’tat.

At least Geigi had returned to the world to knock heads. He hadn’t come down with his full security detail either, but whatever operations the Marid had been undertaking to draw Maschi clan into its own orbit were going to suffer, now that Geigi’s feet were back on the ground, and that posed a threat to Machigi’s plans—to his life, if they took him down. Marid leaders did not retire from office.

All hell was going to break loose, was what. And there was no way the paidhi-aiji could request a major Guild action in support of his position. Tabini might not be eager to get himself visibly involved in this venture—he had a legislative session coming up in very short order, and likely didn’t want to involve himself in Ilisidi’s controversial solution for the west coast— even if he personally wanted to agree with her.

So it devolved down to theirproblem. They had to solve it with the assets they had packed into Najida estatec while Machigi had the whole South to draw on, probably including every member of the various Guilds who had too enthusiastically joined Murini’s administration. The various Guilds’ leadership had suffered in a big way during Murini’s takeover, from politically quiet ones such as Transportation and Healing, to politically volatile ones like the Messengers and, God knew, the Assassins. The way Murini’s people had purged the Guilds, the Guilds’ former leadership now being back in power had purged Murini’s people out of their ranks, and those people had run for protection to the one district that had supported Murini. The South. The Marid.

Machigi. Who consequently might be able to put into the field as many assets as Tabini-aiji.

Noc he didn’t want to challenge that power to a personal shooting match. No more than Tabini did.

Not yet.

He sat, elbows on the desk, with his hands laced together like a fortress.

One unlikely force had sat like a rock for centuries in the tides of Marid ambition: the displaced peoples of the island of Mospheira; the Edi, and the Gan. And the dowager—God, that woman was shrewd—had offered that force a prize it had never thought it could win.

And offered it with real credibility.

A knock at his door. Jago came in.

“The Grandmother of the Edi is on her way, Bren-ji. We are not interfering, but we are covertly watching, with Cenedi’s cooperation.”

“Good,” he said. “Lord Geigi?”

“Is aware.”

Which meant his security staff had informed Geigi’s.

Bren got up and picked up his coat. Jago assisted him to put it on. She was in house kit, augmented, however, by a formidable pistol that rode low at her hip: the ordinary shoulder holster might be under the jacket, but that thing looked as if it could take out the hallway. “House rules: we respect her security.”

“Yes,” Jago said. And added, in a restrained tone: “Barb-daja is asking to go into the garden at this moment.”

“No,” he said. Two people in the house were notin the security loop, and didn’t have staff to inform them there was a major alert going on. The movement of the Edi lady was a serious risk. “Tell Ramaso to attach two senior staff to my brother and Barb-daja. They should not let them out of their sight—and they should stop anyone who attempts to exit the house.”

“Yes,” Jago said with some satisfaction, and plucked his pigtail and its ribbon free of his collar.

He took the time to fold up his computer, lastly, and put his notes away, and locked the desk, not against hisstaff—just his personal policy, and precaution, under present circumstances. They’d had the house infiltrated once, and he didn’t take for granted it couldn’t happen twice.

Jago said, head tilted, pressing the com into her ear, “The Edi are arriving.”

Time to go, then.

8

« ^ »

Only the chief lords in a gathering sat to meet, in Ragi culture. Among Edi there was no such distinction. Every person present was entitled to speak on equal footing; so the household had prepared the room with every chair that could be pressed into service—including one large enough for Lord Geigi’s massive self, and three others small enough that the aiji-dowager, Cajeiri, and the paidhi-aiji would not have their feet dangling—Bren had made the point himself with staff about seating humans, and staff had cannily and tactfully extended the provision to the diminutive aiji-dowager without a word said.

The Grandmother of the Edi, whose name was Aieso, was a lady of considerable girth, but like most Edi folk, too, small of stature. The weathering of years of sun and wind and the softness of her well-padded body allowed deep wrinkles below her chin. She was a plump, comfortable lady—until one looked in her eyes. And no knowing which of the two, she, or the dowager, was older, but one suspected that honor went to Ilisidi.

Aieso sat, as Geigi rose and came to offer a little bow. “Aieso-daja. We have met many years ago. I am Geigi of the Maschi.”

Aeiso regarded him with a little backward motion of her head, as if she were bringing him into focus. “Lord Geigi. Many years we have been allies.”

“One is honored,” Geigi said. “And I am extraordinarily appreciative that you were willing to come up from the village.”

The Grandmother nodded, rocking her whole body amid her fine embroidered shawls. “And have you come back to stay now, Maschi lord?”

“At least to finish my usefulness here, honored lady. I have come back to remove my nephew from any position ever to deal with the Edi, and in the interests of setting the tone of this meeting, let me say at the outset that I wish to make thorough amends to my neighbors and to my staff before I go back to space.”

“Huh.” The Grandmother made a low sound in her throat. “ Willit change, Maschi lord?”

“The understanding of the treaty will not change, one hopes,” Geigi said levelly. “Some things, however, nandi, ought to change. We are not in disagreement with the aiji-dowager’s proposal. And with that said, one hopes this will be a productive and harmonious meeting of old allies.” Lord Geigi bowed, waiting not at all for a comment from the lady of Najida, and went over to resume his own chair, leaving the canny lady nodding thoughtfully to herself, with her hands folded on her lap.

Tea went the rounds. And it took every cup and every pot available in the house, considering the Najida Grandmother’s contingent. There was a decided dearth of Guild security in the room: Banichi and Jago had stationed themselves just outside, in favor of Cenedi and Nawari, and Cajeiri’s young guards were also outside. Geigi’s bodyguard, however, most directly in need of briefing, were standing in the far corner of the room.

“Welcome to our Edi guests,” the dowager said, when the tea service was done to satisfaction. “Welcome to Lord Geigi of Kajiminda, who is residing here at Najida for safety’s sake, until something can be done to guarantee Kajiminda’s security. We hope present company can assist in that matter. Gratitude to the paidhi-aiji, our host for this auspicious meeting. We have spoken to our grandson, meanwhile, and he has received news of our proposals without comment as yet, but he is listening with interest. Lord Geigi may have a comment on this.”

“One would wish to speak, yes, aiji-ma,” Geigi said, still seated. “And one can only regret the mismanagement of my nephew in his care of Kajiminda, and one must say—my own acceptance of his lies as the truth. He has been dismissed from his honor and remains under close guard. He will not return to Kajiminda under any circumstance and only remains in this district because he may still hold useful information. Tell me, neighbors, nand’ Aieso, is there any news of my staff? Are they safe? One understands this may be a veiled matter, but one earnestly wishes to hear good news. One would instantly offer them their jobs back, if they could be persuaded to return. Certainly, for those who may have retired during my absence, under a reprehensible administration of the estate, one foresees issues of recompense and pensionc all things I would wish to see to.”

“Regrettably,” Aieso said, “certain ones have died violently, Maschi lord. Others have gone to Separti Township. Some few are in Najida village and some will reside in your own village, when you go there. Certain ones, indeed, have grown old in your service and have not been fairly dealt with by your nephew.”

“Tell me these cases and ask them to come to me for redress, nandi, one earnestly asks this.”

A nod from the lady, a lengthy and meditative nod. “You have a good reputation, Maschi lord. Your clan has not, at the moment, and your sister and your nephew have not. Your surviving staff is waiting for word, waiting for the Ragi to clear out of Kajiminda. When you go to your own house, you will have staff and you will have protection enough in the fields round about. Dare you rely on it?”

“One is greatly relieved to hear so,” Geigi said. “And one has no hesitation in relying on it. These four Guild will still attend me. These men—” He indicated the Guildsmen in the corner. “These men are attached to me, of long standing. Never be concerned about their man’chi. It is to me.”

A long, slow intake of breath on the Grandmother’s side— a difficult issue, and one would suspect the Edi would like to detach Geigi from any Guild presence at all, but Geigi’s firm statement indicated this would not happen.

“The matter of an Edi house,” Geigi said further, “I strongly support. One assumes the Grandmother of Najida would be in charge of such an establishment—and should you, nandi, at any time wish to be my guest in Kajiminda until this is a reality, you are welcome. Kajiminda estate will welcome you as resident. Kajiminda will remain Maschi, so long as the treaty stands, but will cede all the peninsula south of the brook, all those lands and the hunting and fishing in them—it does this unconditionally, looking forward to the construction of an Edi estate.”

It was an astonishingly generous offer. It stripped Kajiminda of all income except a little hunting and a little fishing, and, most importantly, put Kajiminda village itself under Edi control. There was a quiet buzz of interest in the room.

And the paidhi asked himself—was it legal? CouldGeigi do that, without the authority of his clan lord? Never mind he was the holder of Kajiminda—did he have the authority to sign part of it away?

Muted tap, from Ilisidi’s cane.

“We also support Lord Geigi’s offer.”

More comment in the room, people perhaps asking themselves the same question. And two more taps of the cane.

“Cenedi,” Ilisidi said sharply, and Cenedi walked from behind her chair to the midst of the gathering.

“A word from the Guild that protects the aiji-dowager,” Cenedi said, “and from others of the Assassins’ Guild involved here at Najida, regarding our intent and purpose. We will bring armed force where necessary to protect the lords of the aishidi’tat. We will notmove against forces that may be defending Edi territories. We count such forces as allied to the lord of Kajiminda according to a treaty approved by the aishidi’tat. Our Guild supports Lord Geigi’s decision to rely on local force, and will cooperate.”

Technical, but that was major, even speaking only for Guild presently in the area. The Assassins’ Guild had historically taken a very dim view of militias and irregularsc and Ilsidi’s chief of security promised cooperation with the Edi.

“Nadiin,” Cenedi said then, and four more Guild walked to mid-room: Geigi’s, from the station. “Nand’ Geigi’s bodyguard.”

A little bow from Haiji, the senior of that association. “We are here withour lord. We will work with Edi staff and with Guild here at Najida. Cooperation with the people of the region is our lord’s standing order.”

With which, with quiet precision, the five Guildsmen separated and went back to their places, leaving a little buzz of talk behind them.

“We invite the Edi to choose a building site,” Geigi said. “Anything is negotiable. We are at a point of felicitous change. Baji-naji, there will be adjustments and perfection of our understandings, but let us establish that there will be an Edi seat in this district, whether or not the lordship is declared this year or the next. You will begin to make it inevitable, and havinga place to which communications may come and from which statements are understood to be official—the aishidi’tat understands such things as important. To what degree you use this place for your purposes, or in what way you use it, or how you sanctify it—that will be Edibusiness.”

There had been a lukewarm response up to that last sentence. But Geigi, whose whole business on the station was maintaining a smooth interface between atevi and humans, and making things work, had just delivered something that did matter, deeply, with that last how you sanctify it. Old Aeiso rocked to and fro and finally slapped her stout hands together, twice and a third time.

Feet stamped. Faces remained impassive, but the racket had to be heard throughout the house; and it went on until Aieso got up and wrapped her shawls about her.

“Will it be agreed?” she asked, and at a low mutter from her people, she nodded, folded her arms tightly and looked at Geigi and at Ilisidi, and straight at Bren. “Kajiminda will be under our protection, the same as Najida, and our hunters range as far as Separti Township and report to us. Guild are welcome under the direction of our allies Lord Geigi and Lord Bren and the Grandmother of the Ragi.”

That was a damned major concession, and rated an inclination of lordly heads.

“Najida hopes to be a good neighbor, nandi,” Bren said.

“So with Kajiminda,” Geigi said.

“The Grandmother of Najida knows our disposition,” Ilisidi said, and Aieso nodded, rocking her whole body.

“So. We will walk,” Aieso said, “we shall go walking seaward of the brook on Kajiminda, Maschi lord, and see if there is a spot the foremothers favor.”

“Indeed,” Geigi said. Bren only remotely construed what Aieso intended, but one recalled the monuments of the Edi on the island of Mospheira, the monoliths incised with primitive, slit-eyed, slit-mouthed faces and the hint of folded arms: the Grandmother Stones, left behind—one could only imagine the trauma. Such stones stood on an isle to the north, in Gan territory. Ragi atevi, inveterate tourists, who would undergo amazing hardship to view something historic or scenic, were not welcome there, and, in turn, pretended no such stones existed. They were noton the official maps.

One thought of those stones, in territory where no outsider was welcome.

One gathered the old woman would, indeed, go hiking about the peninsula, likely with a contingent of her people—testing Geigi, among other things. Maybe establishing lookouts and arrangements of their own, for future defense.

It would be a far walk for the old woman. And a hard one. By the placement of such statues, the Edi favored difficult places.

“Najida would lend the bus for transport,” Bren said, “should you wish, nandi.”

That won a soft chuckle from Aieso, who seemed in increasing good humor, even brimming delight. “The old truck will suffice us, Najida-lord. But mostly we shall walk.” And to Ilisidi: “Grandmother of the Ragi, speak to your grandson and advise him what we have agreed. Advise him when we walk in Kajiminda, we will assure our own safety.”

Ilisidi nodded. “We wish you well, Grandmother of the Edi.”

Aieso gathered her shawl about her. Her company stood up, and Bren did, and so did Geigi and Cajeiri. There were bows on both sides, a second nod from Ilisidi, who accepted Cenedi’s arm to rise, slowly, using her cane, and the visitors quietly followed Aieso out, leaving a room full of slightly disordered chairs and a portentous silence.

God, Bren thought, done was done. The Edi were going to pick out a building site on what amounted to their half of Kajiminda Peninsula, and one could figure, up on the north coast, their fellow exiles from Mospheira, the Gan, were going to start making their own demands on the aishidi’tat for full recognition and, one hoped, membership in the aishidi’tat— thatpoint was one on which he intended to work hard.

Well, well, the aishidi’tat was still suffering aftershocks from the earthquake of Tabini-aiji’s fall and his triumphant, popularly driven return, and in some ways that popular mandate was still empowering the regime to fix things.

It was an old, old wound, the two exiled atevi peoples from Mospheira, essentially being the west coast of the aishidi’tat, yet being governed by other, continental, clans—while coming under perpetual assault from their old enemies in the Marid—

Well, things were going to change, if change didn’t kill them all.

Certain interests were going to have a howling fit.

“Well done, Geigi-ji,” Ilisidi said. “Bravely done.”

Geigi gave a small, dry laugh. “Now we have only to inform Maschi clan,” he said, “that I have given away half the peninsula.”

“Let Maschi Clan be very careful,” Ilisidi muttered ominously. “We will speak to them, Geigi-ji, should the Guild of Maschi clan at Targai want more information.”

“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said quietly. Ilisidi was taking actions in which her grandson had not been consultedc actions that could shake a quarter of the continent.

But then, her grandson had left her here. Withhis heir. Tabini was just about on Ilisidi’s scale when it came to forcing his way on the world.

Bren had personally dreaded the upcoming legislative session, and his own part in it—which involved the proliferation of cell phones. Now he was less sure they were even going to get around to debating cell phones, once the matter on the west coast hit the floor.

And Lord Geigi said: ‘“Sidi-ji, I must deal with Maschi clan, andthe Guild that serve there. One owes one’s clan that, at least, amid the honors Ragi clan has given. I must be the one to deliver this news.”

“Then do it by phone!” Ilisidi snapped—an earthquake of a statement from one of the most conservative, traditional forces in the aishidi’tat.

Geigi shook his head. “ ’Sidi-ji, you know I cannot. I must tell him. I must tell him soon. That was the price of so advising the Grandmother—and one knows Pairuti will not be pleased with me.”

“If he is wise, he will be pleased!” Ilisidi said. “Or you will takethe clan, Geigi-ji. We needthe vote!”

“Aiji-ma,” Geigi began to protest.

“The Marid will take him,” Ilisidi said, “or we do. Pairuti is a weak stick. This arrangement cannot lean on his good behavior.”

“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said in despair.

“And you may advise him of thatby phone, if you take our advice! And summon him to Kajiminda!”

“One cannot, one cannot, aiji-ma, for my own honor, and Maschi honor, most of all, one cannot. I must give him a chance, with his dignity, for his honor, and mine.”

“ Hishonor!” Ilisidi said darkly, and leaned on her cane and frowned at him, and frowned at Bren, and then at nothing in particular. She drew herself up then, and the cane tapped softly, once, twice, three times, and her jaw set. “He surely knows that you are back on the earth, he surely knows that Kajiminda is in distress—oh, we cannot believe that he is under-informed, and where is any message from him? We see none.”

“There has been none, aiji-ma,” Bren said.

“Well, if you must do it, Geigi-ji, prepare to do it in style. And nand’ Bren will assist. He is a persuasive sort. Will you not assist, nand’ paidhi?”

Bren bowed his head, said, “Aiji-ma,” and thought to himself—Ilisidi had just gone secretive on them.

“The lord of Kajiminda must sitin Kajiminda again, nandiin-ji,” Ilisidi said. “From therehe most reasonably would depart to visit Maschi clan. Nand’ paidhi, you have a bus.”

“At nand’ Geigi’s service, and the aiji-dowager’s, of course.”

“We have some few things to arrange,” Ilisidi said, flexing her fingers on the knob of her cane. “We have some calls to make, but, Geigi-ji, youmust simply rest and let us arrange them.”

“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said with a little bow. “But I must send messages.”

“One is certain they will be discreet, and wise. Nand’ Bren will assist you, making any contacts you need.”

“Without doubt, aiji-ma,” Bren said, but was not certain she even heard him.

Ilisidi was already, in her mind, setting something in motion, and it was a fair guess that Geigi’s honor would not like to know too much right now.

That, or Geigi had just made the requisite formal protest— for his honor’s sake—before undertaking something his honor found difficult. He wasa Rational Determinist, a philosophy which relied less on Fortune and Chance, that baji-naji attitude of the traditionalists. In his beliefs, he could shove Fortune into motion; and he had just made his own proposal to the Grandmother of Najida, generous beyond anything reasonable.

And, what was more, one suffered more than a slight suspicion that Geigi had not at all surprised Ilisidi when he had done it.

9

« ^ »

Lucasi and Veijico were not entirely happy. They had, of course, been listening at the door during mani’s session with the Grandmother and Lord Geigi, but they had not been pleased with being relegated to the hall.

And they had had their heads together at least twice since they had gotten back to the suite. Cajeiri noted that fact. He had very good ears—too good, Great-grandmother often said— and he knew a good many of the Guild hand-signs he was not supposed to know, because Banichi and Jago had taught him, and so had Antaro and Jegari, whenever they learned them.

There was no sign for our seniors are out of their mindsand there was none for we are superior to all these people. But that was rather well communicated without their saying a thing.

“Luca-ji. Jico-ji,” he said, in the process of shrugging on a light daycoat Jegari held for him. “Are we possibly discussing my great-grandmother’s business?”

That got their attention. Instantly. And he thought, If they lie to me, they will be in trouble.

Lucasi bowed slightly, a little more than a nod. “We were discussing the events in the house, yes, nandi.”

“Do we form policy, nadiin-ji?”

A small silence. A slightly seditious silence. Seditiouswas one of Great-uncle’s words. Conspiratorialwas another.

“We do not,” Lucasi said with a second bow.

Cajeiri wished he had a cane like Great-grandmother’s. It would be very useful with manners like that.

“You are much too smooth,” Cajeiri said. “Smoothness is just a little step from lying.”

“We do not lie, nandi!”

“What is a lie?” he asked back—seguing right to one of Great-grandmother’s little lectures.

“We do not lie.”

“Answer me! What is a lie?”

A deep, annoyed breath. “A falsehood, nandi. And where have we uttered a falsehood?”

“You try to give me a false impression. Thatis a lie. You talk in signs and you discuss my great-grandmother. That is stupid, by itself! And lying to me does not improve it!”

A sullen bow in reply. “If you choose to regard it that way, nandi.”

“Do you see a difference in it, nadiin? Ido not. You may be called upon to lie in my service. But never lie to me. Never lie to Antaro and Jegari. And never conceal your opinions from me! But be verycareful of my great-grandmother!”

They both looked as if they had a mouthful of something very unpleasant.

“Well?” he said. “Say it.”

“We are concerned,” Veijico said. “We are greatly concerned that your elders are making dangerous decisions. Your great-grandmother is aiji-dowager, but she is notthe aiji. We are bound to report to him.”

“And I say you do not! Who do you think you are, nadiin? Higher than Cenedi? Higher than Banichi?”

“We report to the aiji, your father!”

“Regarding me! Regarding when I break one of nand’ Bren’s rules or get lost on the boat! But you do not make calls to my father about my great-grandmother, or you will be very sorry for it. You do not meddle! Do you hear me?”

“We hear,” Lucasi said in a low voice, and not a shred of remorse was in evidence. “But we have an opinion, nandi.”

“State it.”

“These are foreigners,” Veijico said after a moment of silence, “with their own man’chi.”

“ Whois a foreigner?” he asked. “Do we mean the Edi?” Deeper breath. “Or do we mean nand’ Bren? Or do we mean nand’ Geigi, who comes from the space station?”

Another silence. Then, from Lucasi: “We are concerned about the welfare of this house, nandi. Your great-grandmother is attempting to replace the lord of Maschi clan. This will upset the whole aishidi’tat. It affects every lord. It will not be popular.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But it may be smart, if Pairuti is a fool like Baiji, or if he has made bad bargains with the wrong people.”

“And Lord Geigi and Lord Bren are considering going to the Maschi house! That is stupid, nandi!”

“We doubt it is.”

“ Youare eight years old.”

Oh, thereit was. Antaro and Jegari took in their breath. He saw their heads lift, and saw them both like wound springs, ready to say something. He signed no.

And smiled, just like Great-grandmother. “Yes, I am at an infelicitous age,” he said, not personally using the insulting and unlucky eight. “But I understand when not to touch things. You should learn it.”

Two very rigid faces. “We were put here,” Veijico said, “because we have a mature understanding, which you, young lord, do not yet—”

“ You were put here,” Cajeiri said, “because I make guards look bad and tutors quit. The only ones who can keep up with me are Antaro and Jegari. See if you can, if I get mad at you.”

That got frowns. “We can keep up with you,” Veijico said. “Never doubt that.”

“Good,” he said. “Baji-naji, nadiin. People have been wrong. And you do notcall my father to report on my great-grandmother. Sometimes my great-grandmother is scary. So are her associates. You should get used to this. My father is used to it. So should you be, if you are going to try to keep up with me.”

Sullen silence from Lucasi, and one from Veijico. A scarcely perceptible bow from Lucasi.

“Are you honest with me?” Cajeiri asked. “Do you still think I am stupid and have to be lied to?”

A little pause additional. Then a slow bow from Lucasi and from Veijico, nearly simultaneous. “No,” they said.

Not: No, nandi. Just no. They were saying what they had to say. But he realized something right then that he should have felt much sooner. There was no connection. There was no man’chi. And there was no inclination toward it. They might feel it toward his father. But who knew where else—if it was not to him?

But everybodywho was not his father’s enemy felt man’chi toward his father. To decide that wastheir man’chi—that was more than a little presumptuous on their part. Presumptuous. That was what mani would say. They thought they were in his father’s guard. They found fault with his great-grandmother and practically everybody, including him.

A lot of people in the central clans were like that. But theywere from the mountains. They had made up their minds to be like that.

And he was mad.

He was very mad at them. And they knew it. It was in the stares they gave back, and they were not in the least sorry.

“You know far less than you think you do,” he said. He would neverdare say that to the least of Great-grandmother’s men. He would never dare say that to the maid who cleaned the room. But he said it, and meant it, and glared at them.

He had finally disturbed them. Good.

But they were not sorry about it.

He did not like that. People in one’s guard who were not in one’s man’chi were dangerous people, people he did not want near him.

But his father had given them to him, and he was stuck with them.

He could give them one more day and let everybody cool down, and thencall his father. Or tell mani. They would not last long if he talked to mani, who would talk to Cenedi, who would find someplace to put them, no question.

He was not quite ready to do that. Just upset. And sometimes his upsets went away in an hour.

“You have made me mad,” he said, “and that is stupid, nadiin.”

“Nandi,” Antaro said quietly, “they areGuild. And you did put us over them, and that is hard for them.”

“We do not need defense, nadi,” Veijico said shortly.

“Twice fools!” Cajeiri said, and set his jaw. “Give methat face, nadiin!”

It was what mani would say when hesulked. And it got their attention.

“I could turn you over to mani,” he said. “But I am mad right now. And when you do something involving my great-grandmother you had better mean it. So I am giving you one more chance. You take my orders.”

A deep breath from Veijico. A little backing up, from both of them, as if, finally, they had had better sense, or saw a way out. If you corner somebody—Banichi had told him once, and he had always remembered it—you can make them go where you want, by what escape you give them.

“You go,” he said, “and keep an eye on things in the house, and if anything happens about what we heard today, or if anything changes, or you even suspect it is changing, you come back to me and tell me. But do not follow me about, and do not ever be telling me what to do. You can give me your opinions. But you cannotgive me orders.”

“Nandi,” Veijico said, and finally bowed her head and took a quieter stance. Lucasi did, too.

“Go do that,” he said, fairly satisfied with himself, even if he was still mad.

Only when they had gone and he was alone with Antaro and Jegari, he let go a lengthy breath and let a quieter expression back to his face.

“Do you think they will do it?” he asked them outright.

“One is not sure,” Jegari said. “But you scared them, nandi.”

“Good!” he said. “ Youare senior in my household, nadiin-ji, and will always be, no matter how high they are in the Guild. And for right now, none of the Guild under this roof are happy with them.”

“One has noticed that,” Antaro said.

“But we are obliged to take their orders in Guild matters,” Jegari said, “unless we have orders from you not to.”

“You have, nadiin-ji. We orderyou to refuse any order from them you think is stupid. Or wrong. And we want to know what they said and what they were doing. Their man’chi is notto us!”

“One perceived that, nandi,” Jegari said.

“One perceived it,” Antaro said in a quiet voice, “and was not that sure, until now. One is a little concerned, nandi. We were prepared to be careful what orders we took. At least to go to Cenedi or Banichi.”

Two of his aishid had political sense and discretion. The same two of his aishid had learned from Banichi and Cenedi, and that put them forever ahead of two who had not, in his opinion.

Two of his aishid had a real man’chi to him, and he cared deeply about that. The other two—it might yet come. If he got control of his temper. His father’s temper, Great-grandmother called it, and said she had none.

But he rather hoped it was hers he had, which was just a little quieter.

He had not shouted, had he?

And he thought he had put a little fear into those two. More than a little. He might be infelicitous eight, but he was nearly nine, and he was smarter than almost anybody except the people his father had left in charge of him, which he thought might be why his father had left him here—unless his father was tired of him getting in trouble and wanted to scare him.

Fine, if that was the case. He was only a little scaredc less about what was going on outside the house than about the two Assassins his father had given him to protect him.

His father had given him a problem, was what. A damned big problem. And for the first time he wondered if his father knew howbigc or had these two so wound up in man’chi to himself that he never conceived they could be that much of a problem where he sent them. Maybe they were to be perfect snoops into hisaishid, and into nand’ Bren’s household and into mani’s.

Would his father doa thing like that?

It was what mani said, Watch out for a man whose enemies keep disappearing.

Well, that was his father, damned sure. Most everyone knew his father that way.

But then, one could also say that about Great-grandmother.

Both of them had been watching out for him, all his life. Now he had to look out for himself.

If he could takethe man’chi of two of his father’s guard, that would be something, would it not? He had gone head to head with these two, and scared them.

The question was, did he want them? And could he get them at all, the way he had Jegari and Antaro? Did they have it in them, to be what Jegari and Antaro were?

Mani had told him, when she took him away from the ship and his human associates, that there were important things he had to learn, and things he never would feel in the right way, until he dealt with atevi and lived in the world.

Was this it?

His whole body felt different, hot and not angry, just— overheated, all the way down to his toes. Stupid-hot, like a sugar high, but different. Not bad. Not safe, eitherc like looking down a long, dark tunnel that was not quite scary. It had no exit to either side, and no way back, but he knew he owned it, and he suddenly conceived the notion hewas the danger here. He wondered if he lookeddifferent.

He needed to be apart from Veijico and Lucasi for a few hours, was what. Antaro and Jegari were all right. They steadied him down and they could make him laugh, which was what he very much needed right now. He very, very much needed that.

10

« ^ »

Thus far, probably bored out of their minds, Bren thought, Toby and Barb were dutifully keeping to the basement, through all the coming and going in the house.

He went downstairs into the servants’ domain—Banichi and Jago stayed right with him despite his assurances that everything was calm and they could take a little rest; and they walked with him through the halls, two shadows generally one on a side, except where they passed the occasional servant on business. It was a bit of a warren down here, rooms diced up smaller than those above, and the floor plan much more humanish, having a big square of a central block and a corridor all the way around. The main kitchens were down here, with their back stairs up to the dining room service area; and next to them the laundry and the servant baths all clustered together at a right angle—sharing plumbing.

Beyond that side of the big block, beyond fire-doors and sound-baffling, was the servants’ own recreation hall, their own library and dining room, and beyond that, again another fire-door, the junior servants’ quarters.

Baiji occupied one of these rooms. One of Ilisidi’s young men, on duty at that door, had been reading. He set down his book so fast he dropped it, and got up with a little bow, which Bren returned—though likeliest it was Banichi and Jago whose presence had made him scramble.

“Your guest is not my concern,” Bren said mildly. “One trusts the fellow is busy at his writing. My brother is down here. Where would he be?”

“The third left, nandi.” The young man walked ahead of them, escorting them that far, and knocked on the door for him before retreating and leaving Banichi and Jago in charge.

The door opened. Toby saw him with some relief—stood aside as he entered, and left the door open; but Banichi and Jago opted for the hall, and shut the door, likely to go back and pass the time sociably with Ilisidi’s lonely and very anxious youngest guard.

Barb sat at the little table, where the light was best, doing a little writing herself. The disturbed second chair showed where Toby had likely been sitting before he heard the door and got up. The bed, just beyond the partial arch, was made and neat: the servants would have seen to that; but maybe two ship-dwellers had taken care of it themselves.

“Are we being let out?” Toby asked hopefully.

“Sorry. Not yet.” Bren dropped into the chair by the door and heaved a heavy sigh as Toby sank back into the second chair at the table.

“Ah, well,” Toby said. “Any idea when?”

“Well, it’s stayed quiet out. We haven’t had any further trouble. And Geigi’s talking about going home to his estate—that may provoke something. Likely it will. But ifit does, it may shift the trouble over to Kajiminda—and that may get your upstairs room back.”

“That still throws you short,” Toby said. “If you can get Geigi home, you can at least get us to our boat.”

“Sorry. The bus doesn’t go down the hill. You’re safer here.”

“You can only play so much solitaire,” Barb said, and Toby said nothing, only looked glum.

“You’re exposed to snipers down on the boat,” Bren said. “It makes me nervous, your being there.”

Sighs from both of them. “We can’t go into the garden, I suppose, ” Barb said.

“No,” he said. “But it’s not forever. There’s movement in the situation.”

“What kind of movement?”

“Best not discuss all of it. But things are happening.”

“We’re not pacing the floor yet. We’ve threatened murder of each other if we get to that.”

“The room is bigger than the boat.”

“There’s no deck,” Toby said. “And there’s no window. —I’m not complaining, Bren. Honestly not.”

“You’re complaining,” he said wryly. “And I’m honestly sympathetic. Just not a thing I can do to make it safe out there.”

“We’re just blowing off steam,” Toby said. “Honestly. We aren’t complaining. Being alive is worth a little inconvenience. We’re grateful to be here—grateful to the servants who gave up their room for us. We’re here, we’re dry, we’re not full of holes—”

“I’ll relay that to the fellows who live here,” he said, with a little smile. “But I can at least give you a day pass. Things have quietened enough you’ll be welcome upstairs at most any time. Just don’t wait for directions. Duck down here fast if there’s an alarm of any kind. I’m afraid the library’s off limits now; just too crowded in there. But you can use the sitting room, what time we’re not having other meetings. Staff will signal you. I’ll advise them to tell you that.”

“We’ve become the ghosts in your walls,” Barb laughed. “Spooks in the basement.”

“That’s it,” he said.

“Staff has been really good,” Barb said. “They won’t let us make our own bed. We tried, and the maid had a fit.”

He laughed gently. “The juniors have that job and if they don’t do it, the seniors will be on them. Don’t object.” Which said, he got up to go.

“What?” Toby protested. “You’re not staying for a round of poker? We play for promises.”

“I’m up to my ears in must-dos. I just want you to know there’s some movement in the situation, and so far, so good. We have people watching your boat round the clock. No worries down there.”

“Can we possibly help?” Toby asked. “Can we actually doanything around the place? Can we hammer nails, carry boxes, help with the repair?”

He shook his head. “That’s the downside of having an efficient staff. They have their ways. Just relax. Rest. Take long baths.”

“Can I at least get some coastal charts?”

Those were slightly classified. But he did have them. And Toby was in Tabini’s good graces. He nodded. “I’ll send a batch down.”

Thatbrightened up his two sailors. He felt rather good about that.

So he took his leave, collected Banichi and Jago, and went back upstairs to his office, while Banichi and Jago, secure in the knowledge of exactly where he was, in a fortified room with storm shutters shut, got a little down time of their own.

“Coastal charts,” he recalled. “Toby wanted coastal charts.” He went over to the pigeonhole cabinet, unlocked the case and pulled out several. “Have these run down to him, nadiin-ji. I take responsibility.”

Jago went to do it. Banichi diverted himself to somber consultation with Tano, Algini, and Nawari.

And he sat down with the database again, trying to discover how Pairuti’s bloodline—and Geigi’s—connected to the world at large, over the last three hundred years.

Meticulous research on kinships. Who was related to whom and exactly the sequence of exterior and internal events— negotiations in which certain marriages had been contracted and when they had terminated, and more importantly with what offspring, reared by which half of the arrangement, and with what claims of inheritance. Dry stuff—until you discovered you had a relative poised to lodge a claim or engage an Assassin to remove an obstacle.

One of the interesting tactics of marriage politics was infiltration of another clan: marry someone in, let them arrive with the usual staff. That staff then formed connections with other, local staff—and even once the original marriage had run its course—it left a legacy in that clan that couldbe activated even generations down.

And there the paidhi ran head on into that most curious of atevi emotions: man’chi. Attachment. Affiliation. When it triggered, by whatever triggered it, be it the right pheromones or a sense of obligation or ambition or compatible direction—one ateva bonded to another. When it happened properly, in related clans or within a clan, it was the very mortar of society. When it happened between people from clans that were natural enemies, it could be hell on earth.

There’d been a lot of marrying, for instance, of Marid eligibles out and around their district, begetting little time bombs— people never quite at home in their birth-clan, longing, perhaps, for acceptance; and one could imagine, ultimately finding it— because the Marid clans were not stupid.

So the web grew, decade by decade, and that sort of thing had been going on for a lot of decades all up and down the coast and somewhat inland. Sensibly, a stable person was not going to run amok in the household at the behest of some third cousin down in the Marid. But take a little unscheduled income from that cousin for some apparently meaningless datum? Much easier. If you were a very smart spymaster, you didn’t call on people for big, noisy things or life changes. You got bits and pieces from several sources and never let any single person put two and three pieces together.

If you were a lord like Geigi, who’d actually married into the Marid, or drawn a wife out of there, you sensibly worried about the safety of your household—but that household being Edi, the likelihood of any lingering liaison was not high at all. It had surely frustrated the Marid, and perhaps made them wonder who was spying on whom. Geigi’s ex-wife had not risen high in her life, nothing so grand, after Geigi. She’d gone off to the Marid taking all Geigi’s account numbers with her, but Geigi, Rational Determinist that he was—had not been superstitious. He had immediately changed them, and the Marid’s attempts to get into those accounts had rung alarms through the banking system, a defeat that had greatly embarrassed Machigi’s predecessor.

It had been an elegant, quiet revenge that had done the wife’s whole family no good at all. Doubtless they took it personally.

Paru was the subclan in question, on the ex-wife’s father’s side. He wrote that name down, then got up and walked to the security station, the library, walked in after a polite knock and laid that name on the counter.

Jago, who was nearest, looked at it, and looked up at him curiously.

“This is the clan of Geigi’s wife,” he said, “who was greatly embarrassed in her failure to drain his accounts. And they doown a bank in Separti Township: Fortunate Investments. One simply wonders if they have any current involvement.”

“Paru,” Algini mused. “Fortunate Investments, indeed.”

“Certainly worth inquiring,” Tano said.

“Bren-ji is doing our job, nadiin-ji,” Jago said, amused.

“One does apologize,” he said, though the reception of his little piece of information was beyond cheerful. It clearly delighted his aishid.

“Permission to discuss with Geigi’s staff,” Banichi said.

His bodyguard had a new puzzle. They were cramped in these quarters, they were operating nearly round the clock, and Banichi and Jago had bruises and stitches from the last foray, but they had a puzzle to work on. They were happy.

“I leave it in your hands, nadiin-ji,” he said. “Whatever you deem necessary.”

And they thought his small piece of information was worth tracking. Nobody said, as they usually did, oh, well, they had already investigated that.

So he went back to mining the database with a little more enthusiasm.

When one was put out with half one’s aishid and not speaking to them, it was a grim kind of day. Everybody in nand’ Bren’s house was serious and busy. Cajeiri was bored, bored, bored, and tired of being grown up, which he had been all morning and most of the day, but it was not hisfault half his aishid were obnoxious, and he was tired of dealing with them, so he just found excuses to keep them elsewhere and away from him—it was no cure, but it at least made him happier.

There was a beautiful bay out there, probably sparkling in the sunshine, with boats and everything—but one would never know it, in the house, with all the windows shuttered tight.

There was a garden out there, with sky overhead and things to get into that they had never had time to investigate.

But it was off limits, because there could be snipers.

There was the garden shed, and the wrecked old bus, and all sorts of things worth seeing, not even mentioning there was Najida village not too far away, about which they had only heard, and which they had never yet visited.

And there were fishing boats and the dock and all the shops on down the beach toward the village, from a blacksmith to a net-maker. The servants talked about the net-maker’s son, who was about his age, so he gathered, and it was all off limits, because of snipers and kidnappers. The net-maker’s son could be outside in the sunshine. The aiji’s son was stuck inside, behind shutters.

The Marid was a damned nuisance to him personally, along with all the real harm they had done to completely innocent people, including one of mani’s young men being dead, which was just hard even to think of and terribly sad. When hewas aiji, he was going to be their enemy, and they had better figure how to make peace with him or it would turn out very badly for them.

Probably his father was thinking the same thing, by now, and one was sure Great-grandmother was not going to forgive what the Marid had done, but he wished he knew what his father was doing, and one neverknew entirely what Great-grandmother was going to do, but it could be grim.

It was a scary, worrisome thing, to send Guild out on a mission. Nand’ Bren had had to send Banichi and Jago out, and Jago had gotten hurt, which he was really sorry about. And if things got really bad, they were going to have to send a lot of Guild out, and people he knew could get killed. He hated even thinking about that.

He just wished the Marid lords would do something really stupid and that his father’s men—mostly strangers—would go in and settle with them before somebody he knew got hurt.

But the Marid sat down in their land and had their fingers in everything, including, apparently, trying to finagle or bluff their way into Geigi’s clan, if what Lucasi and Veijico occasionally reported back was true. The Marid had possibly infiltrated the Maschi, and Great-grandmother was making a lot of phone calls, but his informants had no idea what she was saying or who she was calling, except it was code.

And Lord Geigi and nand’ Bren were planning to go take Kajiminda back.

And the Edi thought they were going to replace his father’s Guild, who were occupying it at the moment.

And meanwhile Guild was investigating things on the other side of Kajiminda, down in Separti Township, because Marid agents had set up down there.

But that was not all that was going on, because once Lord Geigi had taken Kajiminda, he was going to go inland and visit his cousins in the Maschi stronghold, and it was possible he was going to tell the current Maschi lord to retire so Lord Geigi could take over the whole clan. How this was going to work, one was not certain, but it sounded risky, and people were likely to say no to thatc

And if the Maschi lord agreed, and Geigi moved in at Targai, there was the Marid right next door. It looked to him as if Lord Geigi was setting up to be real trouble to the Marid, and if it looked that way to him, being a kid, one could expect the Marid was going to figure it out—and figure they had one choice at that point: give up annoying the west, or go after Geigi.

He really hoped the Marid would decide then, just like in chess, that they really should not make the next few moves. That was the way he saw it: just like the chessboard—which he played pretty well, but not as well as mani, not nearly as well as mani. And there was nand’ Bren, being the Advisor; and Geigi, being the Rider and moving by zigs and zags; and the Marid could see them maneuvering.

The piece they knew they needed to watch—that was the Consort. And if they were not stupid, they would know that.

Which was whythey had to have everything shuttered up, and whyeverybody was so grim. If they were stupid, they would try to go straight for the Consort, that was mani. And mani knew it.

Mani had taught him that game on the ship. She said it was a human game, but atevi were generally better at it. And he had thought—he had been just six, then—that it was funny that mani ever played games. But she and Cenedi played, sometimes, and early on he had thought all that sitting and staring was just boring.

Sit down, she had said when he said so. And she had proceeded to teach him. He played it with Gene and Artur, the both of them against him, and then they had gotten Irene to join in, so it was him against all of them. Just occasionally they had won, and when they did, he would have learned something.

And once he knew what was going on, watching Cenedi and mani play was not boring. It was hard work. It was very hard work.

It was like that, now. Things were going on, and he was handicapped by having two fools for bodyguards, and he sat and stared at the homework he was trying to do and kept seeing nand’ Geigi and the Grandmother of Najida and mani all building something, and nand’ Bren, who for a human, gave away very, very little with his expressionsc

If he went to nand’ Bren and asked, he probably would not get all the truth. Nand’ Bren would tell him just about what he could guess for himself, and that was that his father was sitting back in Shejidan being safe, which was what the Aiji usually did in the game; and one could lay a bet that his father was going to act as if he had no information from mani at all.

He did bet he knew who mani’s phone calls were to.

He knew who, besides Bren, was very good at not telling all the truth.

He bet, too, that, the way both nand’ Bren and mani talked about Lord Geigi and swept him right into their plans, Lord Geigi was a lot more than he seemed, too, and probably not as easygoing and jolly and defenseless as he looked.

That meant he would be a good ally to have on hisside.

He had never, personally, dealt with Lord Geigi. He wondered how to make an approach to him. The brat kid pose was not the way. The curious kid pose was probably not the way, either. Geigi liked to eat. But Geigi would suspect a bribe if he brought him cakes or the like.

Geigi was interested in his estate, in his clan, in the Edi, in the station, and in business. That was what he knew about Geigi. And Jago had told him once upon a time, about getting information out of somebody, Some people like you to do them favors. Some people like you to ask them favors. The one wants things. The other wants power. You can read people by that.

He thought, Geigi certainly enjoys food. But he expects that. He always does things for nand’ Bren and for mani and for my father. That could make him the second sort.

What favor can Iask him that he can do? Is that the way to get to him?

He thought about that for several whole minutes. Then he sat down at his desk and took pen and paper and wrote.

Cajeiri to Gene and Artur and Irene and all.I have written a lot of letters but I never get one, so I have become suspicious. I am sending this one a different way so maybe it will get to you. If you write to me by the same route and I get it I will send you a long letter because I have been doing a lot of things you will like. We are all fine but people are still shooting at us for now. I hope it will be safe for you to come down to the world before long. It would be good if you could come to my next birthday. I have very many things I could show you if you could.He folded it twice, having no proper seal, nor a waxjack. He put it in his pocket, then walked down the hall, knocked on Lord Geigi’s door and met Lord Geigi’s junior servant. “I am Cajeiri. I wish to speak to nand’ Geigi, nadi.”

“Nandi,” the servant said respectfully: even the new servants knew who he was. And the servant did not go to announce him, but took him directly into the sitting room, where Lord Geigi was busy at his desk.

“Nandi. Nand’ Cajeiri wishes to speak to you.”

“Indeed?” Lord Geigi asked, pausing in his writing, and turning his chair. “May I help you, young lord?”

He had chosen exactly right. He put on a pleasant and hopeful face and took the letter from his pocket. “Nand’ Geigi, one has had a very great difficulty sending letters to the station or getting them back. Someone is stopping them, and one has no idea whether it is someone here, or there. This letter is to Gene of the Parker house, who came on the ship, and he will be living on the station with his family. We are very close associates. And probably you will ask my father if you should take it for me. If you do ask and he says no, please at least tell me.”

Lord Geigi was a very big man, and sat fairly well back in his chair; his dark gold eyes, deepset, holding a lot of secrets, Cajeiri thought. On the surface he was not a scary man. But for just a second he was standing there with Lord Geigi looking at him very seriously and thinking.

“Is this a conspiracy, young gentleman?”

“Only I have written very many letters and gotten no answer, and if my father is stopping them, sometimes he wants me to find things out. One does not at all ask you to go against my father, or to do anything at all risky, nandi, only to tell me the truth. And if he tells you not to tell me, of course you will not. You can read the letter yourself if you like. I have no seal. But if you canfigure out what happens to my letters and tell me, one would be very grateful.”

A very, very serious look. Geigi took the letter from him and laid it carefully on his desk. “A reasonable request, young lord. I shall ask him, and I shall inform you of his answer, unless instructed otherwise. Naturally—if I do not inform you—” A slow and wicked smile came to Geigi’s face. “You will naturally assume correctly.”

He flushed a little and bowed, caught out. “Thank you, nandi.”

“You are clearly your father’s son, young gentleman. One would not willingly stand in yourway.”

He was not sure what that meant. A compliment, he decided, and bowed a second time. “One will leave you to your work, then, nandi, with great thanks.”

“No, no, stay and have tea, young gentleman. Perhaps a teacake or two?”

His interest perked up. It was something to do, and it was even safe, to have tea with lord Geigi. Even Great-grandmother would approve.

“One would be delighted, nandi.”

“So.” Geigi signaled the servant, who had stood by. “Tea, nadi-ji.” With which, he got up from his desk and walked over to a sitting area, where he lowered his bulk into a sturdy chair and waved an invitation at another, less substantial.

“One understands you took a tour of my gardens at Kajiminda,” Geigi said for openers.

“One did, yes, nandi.”

“Tell me what you saw. Tell me everything. One understands it was a very clever escape.”

He did that. Geigi interrupted him with questions about what the staff had done, how they looked, how old the servants had been, and how things looked inside the house and in the orchard. Geigi was after information, was what, and with any other person, he would have been very much on his guard, but Geigi had a perfect right to ask, so he poured out everything he could think of, between the tea service and the cakes, which ran on to a second helping.

“I think we broke the surveillance machinery,” Cajeiri said at one point, “and I think the roof lost some tiles.”

“Cheap at the price, one is sure,” Geigi said cheerfully, “and roof tiles are replaceable. One congratulates you, young gentleman! You did very well!”

“Nandi.” He inclined his head politely, and popped a quarter of a last teacake into his mouth.

“And about this slingshota,” Geigi said.

“Oh.” He gulped tea down in a fashion Great-grandmother would never approve, wiped the crumbs from his fingers with the other hand and reached into his other coat pocket, holding up his treasure. “Nand’ Toby made it for me.” He got up and offered it to nand’ Geigi’s inspection. Nand’ Geigi put aside his own teacup, and he showed nand’ Geigi how to hold it and aim it.

And that was how they ended up out in the garden, under the shade of the portico, defying all the security precautions, with four of Geigi’s men sitting, two on the roof and the others where a tree overhung the old stone wall, and Antaro and Jegari helping them keep watch.

It was the best time he had had in days. They broke already-broken pots, and chased pot-chips across the garden flagstones. The Edi workmen who were repairing the portico began to lay bets, and some of the servants came out and watched.

He won the contest. “But I have used it longer, nandi!” he said. Great-grandmother had taught him always to salve feelings when he won.

“Pish,” Geigi said, which was Great-grandmother’s word. “You are indeed your father’s son. You have a talent for hunting. I, alas, have a talent simply for consuming good dinners aftersomeone has done the hunting.”

He laughed, seeing Lord Geigi was joking with him, and maybe saying something deeper: Geigi was that kind of man. This is a very, very smart man, he thought to himself, and then: Geigi sits and watches and just collects power when people give it to him. Besides my father and my great-grandmother and nand’ Bren, this is the most powerful man there is. And people want to give it to him, because Geigi has no ambitions for his own clan. He is disconnected from the Maschi.

The Maschi clan lord is a fool. Geigi does not want to be clan lord.

The grownups talked about the Maschi and the Marid, and how Geigi had a Marid wife until he got the idea she was plotting against him. And he made a fast move to my father’s side.

Geigi is not a stupid man. Whatever he does, puts more things in Geigi’s hands. And me being who I am, he is very glad to do me a favor. He is storing that away for when I am grown up. When Geigi does you a favor, Geigi will always be very smart how he uses it.

One has never met a man like Geigi. He is different. He moves slowly on his feet, but is way ahead in his mind. And he would put up with a lot before he would want to be the lord of the Maschi.

He runs Sarini Province. How does he do that, from orbit?

A lot of phone calls. And when the phones were all shut down during the Troubles, Sarini Province had no lord and things got in a real mess. The Marid moved right in. And the Edi stopped them. So the Marid got to Baiji.

“You are thinking, young lord,” Geigi said.

He was caught with his solemnity-face. He put a smile on it, the sociable face. And still kept his thoughts inside. He gave a polite bow. “Nand’ Bren says you are very smart, nandi. I think you are.”

He somewhat surprised Geigi. Or Geigi put that kind of face on, and gave a little nod of his own. “You flatter me, nandi.”

“You had rather not be clan lord, had you, nandi?”

That did surprise Geigi. He was fairly sure of it.

“Far from it, young lord.”

Cajeiri raised the slingshota, put a stone in it, and further pulverized a potsherd. He handed it to Geigi, who made a creditable shot himself, and handed it back.

“And you want to go back to the station, nandi,” Cajeiri said. “You like living there.”

Now it was a very sober face Geigi offered him. “The station is my domain, young lord. I have business there.”

“You really like it, however,” Cajeiri said.

A heavy sigh. And Geigi looked at him in a curious way. It was the way adults looked at adults. “The world has its pleasures,” Geigi said. “But I—quite honestly, young gentleman, I have a certain peace in my station post. A certain confidence in waking up in the morning. And a certain skill in getting atevi on the station to stop squabbling over clans and prerogatives and do their jobs in a sensible, civilized way. I derive a certain pleasure out of seeing Maschi and Edi, Taibeni and Atageini and all the rest sitting at my table and behaving themselves in a way they would notdo on the planet.”

He had seen it, in his time on the ship. He had seen it with his human associates. “Like myself, and Gene, and Artur. They are my associates, nandi! Nobody will say they should be, but they are, the same as Jegari and Antaro, who are Taibeni, and people think they belong back in Taiben, but they are myassociates, and Gene and Artur and Irene would get along with them very well. I know what you mean.”

Geigi smiled at him. “So you do, young lord, so you do.”

“One wishes one could just make everybody do that down here!”

The smile became a gentle laugh. “One does indeed. One only wishes one had fruit trees up there.”

He saw something else about Geigi. “I bet you could have one in a pot.”

Geigi laughed, and then looked thoughtful, and very thoughtful. “Young lord, that is a very interesting idea!”

He passed the slingshota to Geigi, who scored on a potsherd, before Geigi passed it back and said that probably they had defied the precautions too long as was, and that they should go back in so his bodyguard could get down off the roof.

So they did.

He understood a lot more about Geigi, then. He had things to think about when they went back inside and Geigi went back to his work.

One of the first things he thought was that, within his aishid, two would understand perfectly everything he and Geigi had said; and two, who had come out at the last to stand and look worried about it all, would be completely appalled.

He was less bored now. But no less frustrated with what he had. He had a crystal-clear idea of the way his own aishid could work—that one-table idea Geigi had talked about. The thing that did not work on the planet.

Except that Geigi and Lord Bren and Great-grandmother were doing something of the like, inviting the Edi in, so maybe it was not a stupid idea for the world.

The boy had been exemplary for days. The worst he had done lately was entice sensible Lord Geigi to violate security precautions. The whole house had stood to attention while Lord Geigi and Cajeiri had destroyed pottery in the garden; but with security all about, on the roof, on the wall, and about the premises—at least it had let young Cajeiri—and their visitor from space—blow off a little steam.

Toby and Barb had taken their own little turn at freedom, coming upstairs to the sitting room, which was, if only psychologically, far more comfortable than the basement. They had procured a deck of Mospheiran-style playing cards, so staff reported, and were pleasantly engaged.

The dowager was doing a little reading, after a spate of phone calls and coded requests. Her staff was resting.

The paidhi’s bodyguard was resting again, too, since the two escapees to the garden were safely back inside—while the paidhi was still sifting through names, names, names and whereabouts and histories and genealogies and business arrangementsc and reading through the first pages of Baiji’s sorry account of the last few years. Baiji’s writing—God! Every line was I, I-this, I-that, and I-thought and I-felt, and damned little information. There were asides, in which Baiji described, to his own credit, one was sure he thought, that he had planted fruit trees in the back of the orchard. That he had enlarged the dining patio. That he had built a new stairs on the dockside. He had built an elaborate gazebo in his mother’s memory. He seemed bound to list all his credits, never mind the information they were really after.

The account finally got to a visit from a representative of a trade office from Separti Township, and the proposal, convolutely related, for a further meeting.

Thathad been the foot in the door. The trade organization in question had Marid ties. They had talked finance—clear that Baiji had a very weak grasp of that subject—and cited references from various south coast companies, which Baiji claimed not to remember, except for one vintner. God! Hardly a nest of espionage there. But there was, buried deep within the account, mostly implied, the notion that Baiji had been scared the world was ending when Tabini had been replaced by Murini, and had been very relieved to receive this contact with people who represented money.

Money. Something which Baiji had been spending wildly in his first few months in his stewardship. One had not seen the monument to his mother, but there was talk of marble columns and siting the thing up on a scenic cliff with a permanent light. One could only imagine.

And who had built it? He had not hired the Edi. He had called in a company from Separti, who ended up presenting him with more bills than he had planned, and said that supplies were short because of interruptions in shipping—there was a deal more about Edi engaged in piracy and sabotage, but not, of course, the servants, who were grateful to him for his good management and his looking after their interests.

Amazing. Baiji had the cheek to say he had thought his staff was being infiltrated by spies. And he had secured a loan “at advantageous interest” to support the estate and keep it “in the style my uncle would approve” despite the downturn in the general economy during the Troubles. He had arranged to buy fish from a company in Separti, when Kajiminda had not been paying its debts to Najida for that commodity—a detail which he had somehow not written down—did he think the lord of Najida would miss that little detail?

Baiji had made all these brilliant moves and secured money which he put on interest “at the bank,” while paying interest to the trading company which had lent it to him—“to encourage good relations” because the trading company had “very advantageous ties” to “people in power.”

Of course they did. The account mentioned names, none of which meant anything to him, but which his staff would be looking up in a different database.

He was building up a good head of blood pressure when Ramaso came knocking at the office door to report there were nineteen people at the train station wishing to see Lord Geigi.

Two blinks. Three.

When one’s mind had been deep in Baiji’s illogical account, one found just a little difficulty focusing on that statement.

“Staff, nandi,” Ramaso said in uncharacteristic excitement. “Kajiminda staff. They are coming back!”

My God! “Have they transportation, nadi?” Najida ran the local bus service, for all this region. It was, originally, why they hada bus. But it was too good a piece of luck to be landing in their lap. Could they trustthese people?

Sending Guild out to investigate Edi who were on their way home after what they had been through—that would not be the most politic thing to do, even if the Guild and the Edi had trusted one another.

“They hope Najida will send the bus,” Ramaso said.

“They will not accept Guild surveillance, Rama-ji; but how shall we know all these people are uncompromised?” Threats against relatives, hostages taken, held under extreme duress— were not the only possibility. “One is extremely distressed to say so in such happy circumstances, but one can think of no better way to breach Najida’s security.”

Ramaso took a deep and sober breath. “Indeed, nandi. But other Edi can judge them. The Grandmother of Najida, with her people—she will get the truth.”

“Would she consent to go meet them? Ask her, Rama-ji, and if she will, arrange to have the bus pick her up in the village.”

“Indeed,” Ramaso said, and bowed, and hurried out.

Which left him worrying about the Grandmother’s safety. But where Aieso went, her wall of young people went with her, and any Edi would-be assassin would be daunted by her mere presence.

Well, he thought—at least one hoped so. It was the best they could do. They had to rely on the lady.

So he went out and down the hall to advise Geigi of the event personally.

“News,” he said when the servant let him in, “Geigi-ji. Nineteen of your former staff have arrived at the train station.”

“Excellent!” Geigi exclaimed, getting up from his chair, and immediately called for his coat and his bodyguard.

“One has requested the Grandmother of Najida to meet them on the bus,” he said. “In the interests of security.”

Geigi was not slow. He froze for a moment, absorbing that, then: “One will meet them here under the portico, then, with your permission, nandi.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“I shall have to go home today,” Geigi said. “And our plans have to accelerate, Bren-ji. Your house can absorb no more guests, and they will want to go there immediately.”

“A dangerous situation, potentially very dangerous.”

“One has no doubt of that. But one must, Bren-ji, one simply must do it. Our plan must go into action, to that extent— depending on what these people have to tell me. I have no choice but to do this. They expect to be able to go home.”

And bringing these people under Najida’s roof—or declining to do so—both courses held risks. On the one hand—bringing them in would expose them all to the danger Geigi intended to deal with, that one of them was a threat. On the other— it would insult the Edi to treat this as anything other than a happy event and a homecoming. Geigi saying I have to do thishad a whole wealth of meaning, and much as he would like to argue with it—there was no argument.

“The wreckage is at least cleared away from your front door,” Bren said, “so the workmen report, and work has begun on resetting the pillars. Najida workmen come and go there, but the place is otherwise under the aiji’s seal, with his guards. One believes the dowager has been in contact with Shejidan on that score. They can be urged to leave as you come in. They must be.”

“Must be, indeed,” Geigi agreed.

“Supply—Outside of what the aiji’s men brought with them, there likely is a want of most things. And vehicles and communications. We have not arranged that. This has caught us all by surprise. We are not ready to have you there, Geigi-ji.”

“Now we shall draw on my own financial resources,” Geigi said, “which are not inconsiderable. If my staff feels safe to do so, they can go down to Separti and buy what we need, even a truck, if we may borrow transport from Najida to get that far.”

Rely on the Edi to check things out and to be sure of the security of the sources and the items from Separti, where they knew there were Marid agents?

He was entirely uneasy about that, too. Guild could be damned clever at their work, and one had far rather rely on other Guild to figure out the likely ploys, when it came to high-level operators.

“One worries about this,” he said plainly. “One worries extremely, Geigi-ji. One is quite sure the Marid will try something when this news gets to them. They will have been embarrassed—granted they did not arrange this.”

“My aishid will be with me,” Geigi said with a little shrug. “For the rest—I shall simply trust my staff. I always have. Without them—there is very little point of my existence as the lord of Kajiminda, is there?”

“One can think of extraordinarily many points to your existence, Geigi-ji! Please remember that you are an associate the dowager and I and the aiji himself would be extremely grieved to lose. You are a target. You are a high-value target! If the Marid could take you out—”

Geigi laughed. “I shall take no chances, Bren-ji. I do trust the Edi. From the beginnings of my life I have trusted them. This is no different. I know their faces. I know their expressions, of all my people. I speak their language that they use among themselves. If I detect a problem, I shall signal you immediately.”

“I shall go talk to the dowager,” he said, “and hope we can arrange this smoothly.”

They had about half an hour or less to arrange things smoothly—somewhat more for the Guild inside Kajiminda to arrange their situation.

And the dowager was—depend on it—already aware of what was going on. Even smug about it.

“We shall manage, paidhi-ji,” had been her word.

There was a steely twinkle in her eye. Accordingly one had the sudden feeling that certain movements and timing were not wholly outside the dowager’s control—and yes, the aiji’s men would readily clear Kajiminda the moment Geigi arrived to take possession of the house. Guild would hand off to Geigi’s Guild, all quite regular, very quick, very quiet, and with no reference to the Edi wishing the inlander Guild generally in hell.

There were a thousand questions one would like to ask Ilisidi about her phone calls this morning, and probably Banichi and Jago could say exactlywhere those calls had gone, courtesy of Cenedi and Nawari—but Guild would talk to Guild, for any information that had to be passed, and meanwhile the paidhi had other things on his hands, imminent things.

The bus, for instance, and the need to give specific orders, with nineteen people standing on the platform at the train station, exposed to snipers and God knew what until they could get there.

The bus was reported to have pulled out of its garage and indeed, the Grandmother of Najida wouldgo out to meet the incomers, along with all four of lord Geigi’s Edi domestic staff. The bus pulled up under the portico, picked up those four, and set out on its run, kicking up a cloud of dust on the road in its haste.

Ilisidi ordered a pot of tea and a snack, and the paidhi decided to spend his time coordinating a list of supplies for Kajiminda, including some essentials to go with Geigi.

And to grim looks from his staff, he ordered his own bags packed, because Geigi’s security had been years on the station, out of touch with what the planet had to offer, for far too long.

There was one graceful way to get additional help over there—for the paidhi-aiji to pay a courtesy visit to Kajiminda, and incidentally to have his bodyguard go over the arrangements and provide backup firepower so long as the paidhi was under that roof.

“Are youleaving, nand’ Bren?” Cajeiri caught him in the hall, and interposed a very worried question. “What does mani say?”

“Your great-grandmother I am sure is perfectly aware, young gentleman,” Bren said with a bow. “I shall not surprise her.”

“We would go with you,” Cajeiri said, “if we were older.”

“One appreciates the sentiment, young gentleman, and one assures you—we shall be very careful. Remember your father’s guard has been days in the place.”

“I regularly escape from my father’s guard,” the young rascal said with a contemptuous lift of his chin, “and I do it very easily. Please be careful, nand’ Bren! My father’s guard is notup to Banichi and Cenedi!”

He was amused, and tried not to show it. “We shall check everything, young gentleman.”

“May we come out to see you off?”

Difficult question. A hazard. But everything was a hazard. “You may stand by the door—only by the door. If there should be trouble you should dive right back inside: set that in your head. Do you agree?”

“Yes!” the young rascal said, and was off, attended by, one noted, Antaro and Jegari. His other two bodyguards had been making pests of themselves today, probably at the young rascal’s orders, at the security station, and were likely still there.

But Cajeiri had hardly left before he was back again, not bothering to knock. “The bus is coming, the bus is coming, nand’ Bren!”

“One is gratified to know it,” Bren murmured. “Have your bodyguard advise Lord Geigi and your great-grandmother.”

Gone again. On a mission. Bren put on his coat and walked out into the hall first to meet Banichi and Jago, who were on their way to him, and then to intercept Lord Geigi and his bodyguard. They started on their way to the front doors, and the dowager appeared, walking with a greatly sobered and proper Cajeiri, and with Cenedi and Nawari.

The house doors opened just as the bus pulled up and sighed to a stop. Its doors opened, and disgorged first the venerable Grandmother and the local folk, who gathered into a knot near the front of the bus—and Lord Geigi’s servants, who came to him, while the bus continued to pour out passengers. The new people were mostly older, with a few young men and women— there had been standing room only on that bus.

“Peisi!” Geigi exclaimed in sudden recognition, and walked out to meet an old man, who bowed, deeply affected, and Geigi bowed, and soon they were the center of a cluster of older folk, the younger hanging back in uncommon solemnity.

It was not all good news that was relayed, Bren surmised, watching that exchange and the sad nods. Geigi surely asked after absent staff, and did not get, apparently, a happy answer in all cases. Bren hung back with the dowager and Cajeiri, in company with their security, not to forget that there were others of the Guild up on the roof, maintaining a watch and a vantage over the whole situation.

There must have been a phone call gone out to the village, too, because in not too long a time, people came walking up the road, meeting old acquaintances with a great deal of bowing and politeness. Some of the villagers had brought small gifts, packets of, perhaps, food; or items they thought might be in scarcity at Kajiminda, like tea, and pressed these little packets on the Kajiminda staff.

Geigi was quite moved by it all. And came to present his elderly majordomo to the dowager and to the young gentleman, and to Bren: “I remember you, Peisi-nadi,” Bren said, and did. The good will was palpable, in all present, and made all their precautions seem excessive.

One recalled it was exactly the mood evoked in the machimi plays—before the last act. They now had to get back on that bus, he and everyone involved.

He had not—God!—remembered to tell Toby where he was going. He had been in the atevi world, lost in it, and he had outright forgotten. But it was too late. Barb and Toby had not come out. They were probably back in the basement, oblivious to what was happening above, until some servant might inform them they now could move back upstairs.

And with a certain misgiving, and a look back at his own front door, Bren paid his parting respects to the dowager and Cajeiri, bows.

“One anticipates,” he said, “at least a stay overnight.” The baggage compartment of the bus was open, and staff was loading on his baggage, including supplies, and his entire aishid’s gear, and Geigi’s four, which took some shoving. “One regrets to withdraw any support from your safety here, aiji-ma. But—”

“We shall manage,” the dowager said. “Take care, nand’ paidhi.”

And to Cajeiri he said: “Bend all your energies to protecting your great-grandmother, young lord. See that the doors stay shut and people stay within the house. And one asks a personal favor. Go downstairs and explain to nand’ Toby that I shall be gone just overnight and that nothing is wrong. One absolutely relies on you.”

“Yes, nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri said soberly. And: “We so wish we were going.”

“The young gentleman knowsc”

“We know,” Cajeiri sighed. And added helpfully: “We jammed the surveillance in the second tower. Perhaps my father’s men have fixed it. But it could still be broken. You should check that!”

“We shall indeed, young lord,” Bren said, and took his leave and went to escort Lord Geigi up onto the bus.

He had all four of his bodyguards going with him; Geigi had his four, and his four domestics, and that meant many of the younger returning staff had to stand in the aisle, but it was all in good, if solemn, cheerfulness. People carried aboard their gifts, tied with colored string, and, wrapped in colored tissue, even a bouquet of seasonal household flowers and some stones and a small winter branch, a token of alliance, no matter the season, for display in the house.

Their Najidi driver got on board and started up the engine, closing the doors. Villagers and staff cleared away slowly from the path of the bus.

The village truck was waiting out on the road, loaded with such bulky things as flour, preserves, and other foodstuffs and basic necessities from Najida estate—there was no likelihood the aiji’s men would have allowed anything to remain in storage from the prior resident when they were clearing the place, for fear of poison, and just as a matter of policy. The search and clearance would have taken the pantry down to bare shelves, Banichi said, and so the truck would go on back to the train station, not down to Separti, and pick up a double supply of groceries they meant to order in, some for Kajiminda, and others for Najida and its village. It might be slightly short commons this evening, give or take what Najida sent, but supplies would be coming in tomorrow.

There was a load of lumber coming in, too, on the train; not to mention Lord Geigi’s new truck—that was already ordered. And a bus. Kajiminda would need its own bus, and fairly soon.

Kajiminda was coming back to life, and took all manner of supply. It wasa cheerful prospect they had.

And somewhere out there across the meadows and small woods, Edi were out doing their own survey of sites, which would mean more building supplies coming in from the south. Businesses down in Separti and Dalaigi were going to be happy about that—without quite figuring, yet, perhaps, that the way politics had run on the west coast for two hundred years was about to undergo a sea change.

The truck traveled ahead of them, too, for a very practical reason—it protected the bus. Though Ilisidi’s young men had kept a very close eye on the district, one never forgot there were some very good Guild doubtless under orders to infiltrate and cause harm of various sort. Guild rules protected non-Guild from involvement; but one had, Algini had once said, no confidence that the Guildsmen in Marid employ were going to be as observant of the rules.

“Some Guild in Southern employ now are outlaws,” Algini had said on that occasion, a rare revelation about internal Guild operations, “who did not report in to Guild headquarters after the aiji’s return. Some are reported dead, which the Guild very much doubts. We have been quietly hunting these people. Some are suspect of crimes and illegal tactics.”

Chilling memory, on this occasion.

But thus far the Guild was handling the whole district with tongs—because of the Edi.

He would bet a great deal that Algini had communicated personally with Guild headquarters, to relay to Guild leadership certain very unpleasant observationsc and possibly to receive certain orders from Guild leadership. Algini had said he was no longer operating at that level of the Guild, but the fact was that those who didoperate at that level of the Guild were inclined to develop a cover story, so no often meant no, but it sometimes meant one was not talking.

Geigi had settled opposite him, with his security standing just behind, as his own sat and stood near him; and the bus moved quite slowly, pacing itself behind the truckc which had not yet run into any undermined culvert, or other such illegal trick.

“I am nerving myself for what I shall see, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “The devastation of my grounds, my orchardc my collections. I wish this were a happier moment in that regard. But I have recovered my people. Mypeople.”

“Be assured about the orchard,” Bren said. “One has just read part of your nephew’s account, and he claims to have planted new trees in the west of the orchard.”

“Gods know what he planted,” Geigi said with a deep sigh. “But that does offer some hope. And my boat. I hope it has survived intact.”

“When last my staff was there, it was riding securely at anchor, and they handed matters directly to the aiji’s men. One hopes they have checked it out.”

“Baji-naji,” Geigi said. “One hopes so, too.”

Bump. Even the modern bus springs had trouble with that one.

The road had seen a bit more traffic since their last visit— the Najida truck traveling back and forth had actually worn down the grassy track here and there. The bumps, however, were little improved.

But when they came to the turn off toward Kajiminda estate, and when they had reached the gates, the view of the harbor showed Lord Geigi’s yacht riding serene and safe on the dark water. That heartened Geigi no end, enough to lift his spirits even in the face of conditions inside the estate grounds: the neglect of paint and edgings about the walls, the sad state of the gates, hanging crooked on their hinges, and notably the portico being completely missing—except two and a half pillars with the beginnings of a timber frame between two of them.

“Najida is doing a grand job, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “You are a most excellent neighbor.”

“One will relay the compliment to Najida village,” Bren said, himself heartened to see what progress the carpenters had made. The estate at least had the look of a place being improved, not a place in complete ruin: they had done that much for Lord Geigi.

A small dark van was parked on the circular drive, just beyond the building. Two men in Guild black came out of the house to meet the bus as it pulled up to the side of the construction zone. Banichi and Jago, along with Geigi’s men, got off the bus to meet them—Tabini’s forces, Bren said to himself, watching the handoff of keys and a small booklet. The book contained, one suspected, codewords or perhaps technical specs on equipment that might have been installed for the estate’s protection.

There was a solemn exchange of formalities, Banichi bowed, the leader of Tabini’s lot did, and then they headed off for the van and Banichi gave a small hand signal toward the bus.

“We may go, nandiin,” Tano said, standing up behind Bren’s seat. Bren got up, Geigi did, and the rest of the company took it for a signal, waiting, however, for them.

Down the steps, then, Bren descending very cautiously behind Lord Geigi. The last thing they needed was a bad omen like falling down the bus steps on an arrival like this, and he was more than a little on edge descending to the cobbles, mentally hearing the gunshots and the crash that had accompanied the fall of the former portico, unconsciously scanning the peripheries of the drive and building for any threat.

He didn’t waste time getting to the side of the building, which afforded major protection. Geigi stared about him a moment: it was his first time home in a very long time, and he was clearly trying to catch a view of his orchard, off behind the wall to the left—but Geigi’s bodyguard moved him very quickly to the open front door and on into the house. Bren followed, and Jago and Banichi stayed close as they entered the front hall. Tano and Algini went on past them, past Geigi and his guard, back into the further recesses of the house, evidently on a program of their own, and probably having consulted with Geigi’s men.

Geigi’s stationside major domo, Barati, came to him, bowed, and asked, with brimming excitement in his old eyes, whether the lord would care to take tea in the sitting room.

“Yes, Bara-ji,” Geigi said warmly, and then to Bren: “Will you join me, Bren-ji?”

Staff, for one thing, wanted the lords contained, amused and out of trouble for the hour. One couldn’t blame them for that. “Delighted,” Bren said, and went with Geigi to the sitting room he had lately occupied with Baiji. There they settled down, while the house quietly resounded with footsteps. Banichi and Jago stayed outside, and would be very busy right along with Geigi’s guard and Geigi’s four station staff, checking things out in the transition from Tabini’s men.

That was going to take hours. And a lot of tea.

But at least it was quiet in the house, and the likelihood of anything turning up to threaten them was not at all high, considering the handoff from Tabini’s men. The serving staff proudly arrived with tea and cakes from the supplies brought with them.

And he and Geigi had a lot to talk about, now that the matter of the estate seemed settled—not imminent business, nothing so dark as that; but the state of affairs on the space station—the likelihood of the promised visitation by the kyo, the aliens they had met in deep space; the state of affairs in his own stationside apartment, and the cherished staff he had left there, staff that had passed all but unnoticed in his lightning-fast transfer from the ship to the downbound shuttle. How were they? Well, it seemed, and happy enough. There had been a marriage on staff, and a baby was expected—fine news, but the couple and the baby very much needed passage to the world again, to present the new arrival to the respective clans.

Their talk wandered on to the station’s decision to build and drop the mobile stations: the decision to set up the cell phone network on the Island—a means of collecting observations from Mospheira during Murini’s takeover, and a means of reassuring and distracting a nervous Mospheiran population that they were still protected from a now-hostile and dangerous regime on the mainland.

It had worked. Mospheira had been utterly—and completely— distracted by the phones. They were protected from mainland troubles. But they walked off curbs into traffic, arguing with their girlfriends.

A sigh. And now the cell-plague threatened the mainland.

It could be useful here and there. He was starting to admit that. He still thought it too potent a change to loose in atevi society, wholesale.

Which he didn’t say. Geigi was the consummate gadget-addict, even more than Tabini, and that was saying a bit.

And while they discussed station politics and station gossip, Kajiminda quietly took on an actual semblance of its former life.

Then Geigi’s security reported the arrival of a number of lightly-armed Edi folk from further out on the peninsula, seeking permission to establish a surveillance post in the farther extent of the orchard and out by the estate wall.

“Yes,” was Geigi’s answer. “Coordinate with them, nadiin-ji.”

And hard upon that good sign was not-so-good news from the majordomo: there were certain valuable artworks missing. They were still taking account, but the absence of a famous porcelain was significant.

“The scoundrel,” Geigi muttered, over a renewed cup of tea. “The unprincipled young scoundrel. That is a famous piece! Did he think I would never notice? Or did he not know what it was?”

“I think we may surmise the district who dealt with him,” Bren said grimly. “And someone there undoubtedly knew its value. Or possibly some individual not in the district paid the price for it, someone who did not attend to its provenance.”

“Or my nephew forged the attendant documents.”

“Either way, one is certain the Artists’ Guild will have a certain interest in the matter, and I have some confidence in the integrity of that guild, throughout. One understands they came under some pressure during the Troubles, and did not buckle. They may turn it up.”

“One will prepare an inquiry,” Geigi said grimly. “Banditry. This is banditry. And Kajiminda, I am sure, has not lost so much as others. Except my sister. Poor woman. She was not stupid, Bren-ji, except in her doting on the boy.”

“Her protection did not improve him,” Bren said with a shake of his head, and then they fell to discussing the Marid, the rise of Machigi to the lordship over the region, and his ambitions—not least of it certain things he had gathered from files, who was now in charge of what township, and who was in favor and who not.

Banichi came in with another report, along with two of Geigi’s bodyguard, detailing the findings, progress in stocking the necessities for the estate, and the meeting with the leader of the peninsula’s Edi residents—who were armed, setting up camps around and about, and with shelters and camouflaged blinds.

It was not a regulation Guild operation, to say the least.

“Irregular,” was Banichi’s judgement, “but not easy to infiltrate, nandiin.”

“How is the interface, nadiin-ji?” Geigi asked his own security, who had come in with Banichi, and with a shrug, his head of security said: “Information flows, thus far, nandi. We have no difficulty.”

Excellent news, that the Guild and the irregulars were communicating. Banichi left. Jago, Tano, and Algini had not put in an appearance in hours, and did not reappear by supper, which turned out to be a one-pot dish, but savory and a great deal of it—admirable under the circumstances. The cook was one of the local Edi women, who reported she had told the paidhi’s staff exactly her secret recipe, and had substituted two spices at their request.

That was the terrifying problem—the herbal possibilities in the countryside were unusual, traditional cooks were not chemists, and had no idea which were poisonous to humans. Bren ate cautiously, a few spoonfuls, then a period of conversation and concentration on the bread, then a few more, pleading that he was full, thank you, nadi-ji. So very good and rich, one dare not overindulgec

Dessert was a cheesecake and compote, and he, for once, ate the whole atevi-scaled serving.

And retired for an evening of nothing but light and pleasant converse with Geigi on boats, local fishing, and the markets.

He was aware, however, keenly aware, that his bodyguard was notrelaxing. At a certain point, toward dusk, Banichi and Jago arrived in the sitting room with Tano and Algini, who went out into the hall and disappeared, to rest, possibly, but more likely to be watching the irregulars, the house staff, andGeigi’s guards.

Security was not going to have a restful night.

Bedtime arrived, and Geigi’s Kajiminda majordomo showed him to a room where staff had put his luggage. His next day’s clothing was pressed, hung, and attended to, and two of Geigi’s staff showed up to assist him with undressing and to attend to necessities. He took a fairly quick bath—having no desire to be caught in the bathtub by a general alarm, which was more and more likely, counting the hour and the likelihood the Marid was highly annoyed at their reclaiming the place.

His second concern, and the one that went to bed with him, was Najida. He was sure his security would tell him if anything were remotely wrong there, or if they’d detected anything to worry about. But they had spent the whole day waiting for the other shoe to drop here at Kajiminda, and he was sure there was one due to drop somewhere—given the shift of Tabini’s forces down toward the township.

So he stared at the ceiling now, and fretted. No distracting conversation. Nothing to do. Nothing he coulddo but get up and wander the halls, annoying staff, who were working in shifts through the night trying to set things to rights.

He had quietly brought his pistol with him—had it on the bedside table, and Jago had, also very quietly, when his staff at Najida was packing, included one of her jackets for him, which had added considerably to the weight of the suitcase. He had hung that on a chair right beside the nightstand, just in case, and was glad to have it. If shooting did break out, the paidhi-aiji would at least have that between him and a body-aimed bullet, freeing his staff to take care of themselves. Among his thoughts tonight, given this new breakout of civil unrest, was that a bulletproof vest his own size would not be a bad item to own and take with him when he traveled. Uncomfortable—yes. But he kept getting into these places. Or places he went kept erupting into chaos.

And hewas supposed to be the peacemaker.

Jago came to bed, finally, well after midnight, tired and trying not to wake him.

“Good evening,” he murmured, rolling over.

“You should not be awake, Bren-ji,” she said.

“One was awake thinking on our situation,” he said. He had no wish to imply his insomnia was anything she could cure, or she would scant other needful things. “How are we doing out there, Jago-ji?”

“Very well so far,” she said, peeling off her shirt. “We are in contact with Najida, which is spending a quiet night. We have spoken with Edi folk in the encampment, which has no difficulties tonight. The aiji’s forces in Separti Township have had a less restful evening, but they may have put some of the Southern Guild to inconvenience.”

“One is delighted with that.”

“It is the plan,” she said, “for the aiji’s forces to keep our enemies busy and pinned down in the township, if possible, for at least the next number of days. They will be encouraged to flee southward or to sea, not in our direction.”

“An excellent plan,” he said. What they least wanted was to have their enemies move in on Najida.

But there was by now, one hoped, considerable Edi presence in the field across from his estate and up on the train station road.

“One would appreciate just one restful night,” Jago said, and hung her gun within reach of her side of the bed, which was between him and the door.

“How is the returned staff?” he asked. “Are they in good mind about this risk?”

“They are determined,” Jago said, and sat down on the bed, turning toward him. “Likewise the Edi in the camp. The Guild does not approve of amateurs, understand. But these—the better name is irregulars—are not entirely in that class, and we should make certain agreements with them in areas where they know their resources. Algini intends to make a firm point of this with the Guild. We cannot bring them into our operations, nor would they accept it, but we can create a mode of reasonable cooperation, within certain difficult districts. This is long overdue. Since the Troubles, it has become more important. This is all secret, of course.”

He withheld comment. Rare that even Jago discussed Guild policy. It was certainly not the paidhi-aiji’s business to pass on it, though she apparently considered it need-to-know. He mentally labeled that piece of information as privileged, like their cook’s secret recipe, and let it rest.

For what else they did in bed, absolutely no discussion was necessary.

11

« ^ »

It was exciting, Cajeiri had thought at first, after nand’ Bren left, to know one was on one’s own—almost. Except for Great-grandmother’s guard.

Cajeiri had gone down to visit nand’ Toby and Barb-daja. And, with the staff, he had helped them move upstairs to the suite that nand’ Geigi had now vacated in favor of his own estate. It was funny how everybody kept changing rooms. Even nand’ Toby thought it was funny.

But after that, nand’ Toby and Barb-daja were busy settling in to the upstairs suite and trying to talk to the servants, and then they were sitting about and moping and worrying about their boat being down in the harbor and about nand’ Bren being over at Lord Geigi’s estate where it was dangerous. They did play a game of cards with him. But they moped until dinner.

Moped. That was another of Great-grandmother’s words, and a state of being he was to avoid. Only bored people moped, Great-grandmother said, and only boring people could be bored.

And hewas not to be boring.

Great-grandmother herself was alternately busy and out of sorts, though she did not mope. Great-grandmother herself nevermoped. She did play a board game with him after dinner, but won, persistently, so that was no fun. One always knew when Great-grandmother was on the hunt, and she was now, and just did not let him win.

So he and Antaro and Jegari taught his two new bodyguards to play poker when they got back to the room, and then proceeded to win a few hands. That was good. Veijico and Lucasi were behaving much more respectfully after he had had them out working with other Guild all day.

They were respectful for a while. Then they started winning, and were not polite about it. He grew disgusted, and took all his guard out into the hall and down to see if Barb-daja and nand’ Toby were doing anything interesting, but there was no sound from that suite.

The only place still alive at this midnight hour was the kitchen, so he went there, back behind the dining room, and hung around Cook, who, with his staff, was cleaning up. He wanted to see how that worked, since it was the only entertainment going, and how the kitchen ran. There were treats. There always were if you hung around the kitchen: there were spare pastries from supper, and Cook said he was making up a snack for the guard change, when the guards on the roof came down.

Veijico and Lucasi were still with him, along with Antaro and Jegari, but Veijico and Lucasi got bored and stopped paying attention. They went off into the dining room without permission, and were talking to one of the house staff. Cajeiri put his head out and looked, and they said, “Just a moment.” Without even “nandi.”

That made him mad.

That made him very mad. He waited that moment. And waited. And they went on talking with one of the serving staff, who was Edi, and who did not want to talk to them, because the servant was supposed to be helping Cook.

“Nandi,” Antaro said quietly, close by him, “shall we go get them?”

“No,” he said, and then he thought he would just teach them a lesson. He made a sign for silence to Antaro and Jegari and he took them both out the back way, using the servants’ passages, just to see how long it would take Veijico and Lucasi to figure out he was missing. He could have taken the back way all the way around and gotten all the way back to his suite without coming into the hall at all.

But about that time the guard changed. He watched from one of the side doors as some of mani’s guard went outside to the garden, where there was an easy way up to the roof, and there was noise overhead, as the guard that had been up there began to come down for hot sandwiches and tea.

Which would probably give Veijico and Lucasi someone else to talk to and another excuse to ignore him. He was disgusted.

So he went down to the lower hall, where nand’ Toby and Barb had been until they had moved upstairs.

From there they walked way around past the kitchen storerooms into the residency hall, where most of the servants had their rooms. They did not go to the hall where Lord Baiji was. That would run them straight into two of Great-grandmother’s young men and he had the notion of not being findable.

“Nandi,” Antaro said. “We two should go up and advise Lucasi and Veijico. We do not need to say where you are. But they will be worried up there by now.”

“Good,” he said. “They should be.”

So they found a storeroom to explore, and looked through it, just to see the fishing tackle and odd things that hung about, tools he had never seen—it was just interesting to poke about the house when most everybody was asleep.

But then he heard the distant thump of one of the big doors.

That was a little worrisome. It was afterthe time for the guard change. Something was going on upstairs.

“Maybe someone has come from nand’ Bren,” he said, and they left the storeroom and went out into the hall, where they ran straight into one of nand’ Bren’s valets.

“Nandi! They are looking for you! They are looking for you everywhere! They are even searching outside!”

“Gods less fortunate.” It was his father’s favorite bad word.

“Fools!” That was his great-grandmother’s. He headed down the corridor, heading for the servant accesses to the upstairs, and Antaro and Jegari were close behind him.

They burst up into the main hall and saw only one of the servants, who exclaimed: “Young lord! The Guild is looking for you!”

“Did someone just now go outside, nadi?”

“Several people, nandi. Nand’ Toby, the lady, two of your young guard, and two of the aiji-dowager’s—”

Disaster. Complete disaster. “Run, tell my great-grandmother we are safe, nadi!” He ran for the door, Antaro and Jegari with him. He flung up the floor lock. Jegari got the top locks. By then another servant had run up and started trying to keep the door shut, crying out that they were to stay inside.

“Stand back, nadi!” he snapped, and they got one side of the doors open, enough to rush out under the portico in the dark. The walk led around beside the house, and down a series of zigzags in scrub and rock to reach the harbor.

He stayed close by the front house wall and ran as far as the very top of that walk, cupped his hands about his mouth, and yelled down the hill at the top of his lungs: “We are up here, nandi, nadiin-ji! We are safe! Come—!”

Shots erupted, flashes off in the dark to the right, shots from across the slope. Then shots banged out from off the roof, shots came from everywhere at once, and he and Jegari and Antaro all dived for cover against the house wall.

The house door opened, throwing light and servants’ silhouettes out onto the cobbled drive.

“Go back, nadiin!” Cajeiri yelled back from his hiding-spot. “We are safe here! Shut the door! You are lighting us up!”

The door thumped shut. Dark fell on the portico again. One did not wish to be responsible for enemies getting into the house, into Great-grandmother’s vicinity. At least Cenediwould be with Great-grandmother, not leaving her for anything—which was good. So all he and Antaro and Jegari needed to do was just stay flat and not get into any more trouble until the Guild handled the problem.

People shouted, far downhill. One was nand’ Toby, shouting in Mosphei’: “Barb, where are you? Somebody help! Somebody help! Barb’s not here!”

Nobody could understand him. Cajeiri did.

“Barb-daja is in trouble,” Cajeiri said, and wriggled onto the flagstones, but he could not see Toby. He decided to risk it. He yelled down the hill: “Veijio! Lucasi! Everybody! Help nand’ Toby! He cannot find Barb-daja!” And in the sudden thought that nand’ Toby might be carrying a gun: “Nand’ Toby, keep down! I have sent my guard down to help you!”

Shots were still going off, sporadically.

Then someone yelled out faintly, from far, far below: “Along the waterline! Someone is down there!”

“Don’t shoot!” Cajeiri yelled out. “It could be Barb-daja!”

It was a mess. It was a terrible, mistaken mess.

And he had started it, making everyone think he had done something stupid—because that was what people always assumed he would do.

More shots went off, all the same. On both sides.

“Barb!” nand’ Toby yelled. His voice cracked. There was no answer. Guild were surely moving out there, and it was dangerous for Toby to keep shouting. “ Barb!”

Then there was quiet for a few moments, just the whisper of the wind and the sound of the water up from the harbor, the bump of something hitting wood, in the rhythm of the waves, from far, far down at the dock. It was that quiet for a moment. Several moments.