Protector

Hadn’t liked relinquishing his power, not at all.

“Definitely. We could prosecute him for the things he did at Reunion. But with us voting with the Mospheirans on every issue, that action doesn’t look disinterested. There’s a lot of heated rhetoric. Now that the Reunioners are starting to splinter on the Maudit issue–and there is at least some balking on Braddock’s plan–these kids , with a peaceful, personal connection to the aiji’s son–they offer something you can’t turn into a political ploy. The contact makes the Mospheirans just a little nervous. They think, I guess, that the kids’ relationship will give the Reunioners some sort of special access. But they’re only three kids–and the Mospheirans have you for reassurance. That’s why I said it’s for our reasons, my being here. Braddock doesn’t want this mission to succeed. The moderates among the Reunioners, who have no clear leader, do. The atevi are calm about it all. The Mospheirans have had one anonymous wit say these three kids already show better sense than Braddock. That’s caught on–and Braddock isn’t happy. We are. Lord Geigi and the moderate Reunioners are watching this, not knowing quite what to hope–but hoping, all the same, that if there were Reunioner paidhiin–the Reunioners don’t remotely understand that word, really–that their influence might win out, not just in a decade or so–but now–over Braddock’s.”

“Did they explain the paidhiin tend to be shot at?”

“I don’t think they mentioned that part.”

His aishid found quiet amusement in that. He noted it. Probably Jase did. Jase had a sip of tea and said, in Ragi, and with a nod: “I told Lord Geigi. He said he thought it was the best decision. Then he added something else. That some Reunioners may think they can set up a colony and run it their way. But that, in the spirit of the agreement between humans and Tabini‑aiji, if we should go out to Maudit–Mospheirans, Reunioners, and atevi should have a share of it.”

“You know,” Bren said, “Tabini would surely appoint a lordship to oversee an atevi establishment there, if it were seriously proposed. But what Tabini more favors is the promised starship. The coup delayed it. He wants it. I’m sure he raised that point with Geigi. There is Reunioner employment.”

“Braddock is not in favor.”

“Poor man. He will not get all he wants.”

Jase said seriously, “The Reunioners have only just become aware that the world does control the resources. All along they’ve made up reasons for why atevi came with us to Reunion. They have no understanding of just how important Tabini‑aiji is to this world in general and their rescue in particular. They missed the last two hundred years of Mospheirans and atevi making this arrangement work, they missed Tabini‑aiji pushing for greater tech and for making the whole space program possible. And now they have Braddock telling them everything we tell them is a self‑serving lie.”

“Ignoring the fact, as Braddock always has, that we could have alien visitors dropping by any day to see if we lied to them,” Bren said. “The man’s a fool. The last thing we need is to have him in charge of anything, let alone an entire station. He nearly got them killed once already. Have they forgotten?”

Jase shook his head. “Never underestimate the power of people to be swayed by what they want to hear. But three children, three of their own, in complete innocence, are saying something that contradicts Braddock–and no few Reunioners are following this, closely, and for the first time listening to actual information. So, yes, the Council put pressure on the parents–promised the kids would be safe. Promised–well, at least suggested it could be advantageous. A guaranteed future for the kids.”

“One is glad to hear that,” he said. He declined to let Koharu make another pot. “We daren’t have another round. We’ll have formal dinner coming up. No question.”

Algini got to his feet quietly, and Tano followed suit, the both of them excusing themselves with a little bow. It was nothing unusual.

It was a little more unusual that those two put on their sidearms and left, but security responded to a lot of signals that were simply precaution, and they equipped under whatever rules were current. They might have gotten a call about something as routine as a query from the kitchen.

Banichi and Jago, however, at apparent ease, stayed until the pot was empty, and when Jase declared he had to dress for dinner, Banichi got up and saw Jase to his room.

Jago said then, quietly, “There is, Bren‑ji, still information on Ajuri movement. They are nearer, but not trending in our direction.”

“Is there any interpretation?”

“It is eastward movement. This takes them more toward the road home.”

“Giving up, do you think?”

“One is not certain, Bren‑ji. Possibly. Or possibly not, if they decided to enter Purani territory and keep a township between us.”

Those lesser clans with ties on both sides of the question–clans which typically tried to stay out of difficulties between their larger neighbors.

“We are keeping an eye on the matter,” Jago said, “and we will use Taibeni Guild to advise Ajuri Guild that they are treading delicate ground. If they do not know we are here, we are not informing them.”

Not sending things through Guild headquarters. He understood that.

“More of it later,” Jago said. “We shall see if they regard that, or if Komaji is bent on making a nuisance of himself.”

Komaji. Damn the man.

“How is our situation?”

“We are satisfied,” Jago said in a low voice. “We have removed certain suspect servants. We have confidence in Lord Tatiseigi’s remaining staff, we have laid down strict rules about outside communication, and we have moved in our elements not only under canvas, out by the gates, but in positions within the house. We have set up our own equipment, that we know is clean. Lord Tatiseigi’s house sits isolated within its hedges–a virtue. We control the grounds so that nothing can move unnoticed. If Ajuri comes no closer, we should be able to let the children go out and about, ride as they please, if they please, explore the immediate area of the house, and enjoy their holiday. Tabini‑aiji is safe and Geigi is in the heavens. The young gentleman and his guests are under our eye and with a great deal of secure space about them.”

“Despite the Kadagidi?” he asked, regarding Tatiseigi’s neighbors to the east.

“We are watching them,” Jago said. “We are advised that Geigi is watching. He has that ability. Not even a market truck has moved around the Kadagidi estate. They are being very quiet. There have been no arrivals or departures. We have temporarily detained everyone who has been removed from Lord Tatiseigi’s estate, we swept the area of the train station, so there were no observers there. They likely know about the Taibeni making an agreement with the Atageini. They will not be happy with that. And they may be aware that Taibeni are here and about the train station–they will be wondering what that is about. They should be alarmed by the sudden silence from their spies, and they may well be conferring over there, asking themselves whether Tabini‑aiji has taken a more threatening stance against them, whether the Taibeni, closely related to him, are part of this plan–but being barred from court, and forbidden to come into Shejidan, they will have to get their information from the news and from their spies in other places. This area has gone dark to them. They are very probably looking to their defense and trying to get information. If that effort occupies them for a number of days, that will be enough to let the children have their holiday and go on to Shejidan. After that, we will let our detainees go, with compensation, which we shall arrange, they will be free to reveal that they have been dismissed from their posts at Tirnamardi–we have no wish to compromise their safety. But since they have worked for the Kadagidi–let the Kadagidi support them hereafter. At that point, at least, if they have not been alarmed before, the Kadagidi will realize they are dealing with a stronger and evidently permanent establishment on their border. That will not shift their man’chi in the least–but it will have warned them that Lord Tatiseigi no longer needs turn a blind eye to their trespasses.”

For much of the last century, the Kadagidi had viewed themselves as the most powerful clan in the Padi Valley, and the Atageini as not quite their ally, but as under elderly leadership, clinging to the old ways, too independent to be ruled, too important to assassinate, and too lost in his own world to threaten anyone.

It was going to be an unhappy realization for the Kadagidi. Tatiseigi was several of those things, but lost in his own world, incapable of playing the political game?

No. Not quite.

· · ·

Dinner needed almost‑best clothes. Eisi and Lieidi had unpacked everyone, there were baths down the hall, and Eisi and Lieidi had steamed all the wrinkles out and helped them dress, except Irene, who, in her too‑large bathrobe, disappeared into the closet to dress. They had no queues nor ribbons to fuss with–their hair was short. Their day clothing was all ship‑style, very plain, blue suits, or green or brown–But Geigi had seen they each came with two good dinner coats, and shirts and trousers, proper enough to be respectful of a formal dinner. Nobody had even thought of it, but Geigi had, and the sizes were all perfect.

His guests were excited and a little embarrassed at clothing they had never worn. There was a little laughter, and the short hair was very conspicuous, but then Artur’s red hair was conspicuous on its own. They turned and admired one another, excited and nervous about it all. True, they were not quite in the latest mode, but Geigi had dodged any conflict of house colors, had everything absolutely not controversial, all beiges and browns and a shade of green and one of blue that just was not in any house. There was lace enough, and Gene said he was afraid he would get his cuffs in his food.

It really was a trick, he realized, and he had known it forever: he showed Gene the knack of turning his hand to make the lace wind up a little on his wrist, and the rest copied it.

They were very pleased with themselves. And they laughed.

But just then a little rumble sounded in the distance, a boom of thunder–and they all froze and looked toward the east.

“Thunder,” he said. He had tried to tell them about weather. He remembered that. Weather was coming in, and he did hope if it rained, it would not rain a lot, and that it would clear by morning, so they would not be held indoors.

They all went to the window, to look out. But the thunder had been in the west, and the window faced east.

It was getting dark, on toward twilight.

“Come,” he said in Ragi. “Come. There is a window. Likely we can see it.”

He led the way out to the hall, where, at the end, there was one big window, and he led them to the foot of it, by the servants’ stairs–and indeed, they could see the clouds coming in, a dark line on the horizon to the left. Lightning flashed in that distant gray mass, and after a moment, thunder sounded. “It is quite far,” he said. “It will be here by full dark.”

“Is there any danger?” Irene asked.

“Being outdoors, yes. If it strikes down to earth, it goes to the tallest things.”

“The house?”

“The house has protections,” he said.

“Those people are out there by the gate,” Gene said.

“They will have a wet night. But they will know what to do. They all will be safe. Come. We can go downstairs. I shall show you from the front door if I can persuade security.”

They went with him, excited, and Antaro talked with house security, and said they wanted just to look out the door, for the guests’ benefit.

“They agree,” Antaro said, so they all went, down all the way to the front door, and Great‑uncle’s major domo opened it for them, while Great‑uncle’s security stood by.

Just in that little time, the bank of cloud was closer, and the wind had begun to blow.

“Oh!” Irene said, as a gust came at them, and lightning obligingly flashed in the cloud.

“Neat!” Artur said.

“This is so good,” Gene said, and walked out onto the porch, with the wind tumbling his hair and blowing at his coat and his lace.

They all did, and the wind blew in their faces, and the thunder rumbled.

“It smells different,” Irene said.

“It smells like rain,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “You shall hear a storm your very first night!”

“It’s different than the archive,” Irene said, and flinched as lightning went from cloud to cloud. “They don’t show us the planet.”

“Who doesn’t show you the planet?” Cajeiri asked.

“We’re Reunioners,” Artur said. “We don’t get the same news as the Mospheirans. As the atevi, too, likely.”

“Why not?” Cajeiri asked, while the wind blew at them, and the guards behind them.

“It’s not our planet,” Irene said then. “We’re not supposed to know things.”

He heard it. He thought about it a moment. It was not right. It could not be right.

“I never heard that,” he said. “Who said that, nadiin‑ji?”

“We don’t know,” Irene said. “But we know Mospheirans get their news. We don’t.”

He had to ask about that. He had to ask nand’ Bren, and nand’ Jase why that was. And he had to ask mani if she knew about that.

“Well, now you have seen a thunderstorm,” he said. “And we should go in and let the major domo close the door.” He led them back inside. The door shut, and he debated between the utilitarian lower hall, where there were interesting things, and the gilt upstairs. “I shall show you the main floor. You saw the upstairs foyer. But I shall show you the breakfast room, and the sitting room.”

“New words,” Artur said. “Irene, get out your notebook.”

“I have it,” Irene said, patting her pocket. And said it again in Ragi. “One has it, nadiin‑ji.”

“You have to say,” Cajeiri said reluctantly, “ nand’ Cajeiri, nadiin‑ji, when you are in my uncle’s hearing. And mani’s.”

There was a sudden silence. A little hush, and he was embarrassed.

“It is the world,” he said. And in ship‑speak: “It’s the world.”

“No,” Gene said, “Captain Jase told us. He explained. Nand’ Cajeiri. We can’t forget that. And your great‑grandmother is nand’ dowager and Lord Tatiseigi is nandi. And we bow.”

“Nadiin‑ji.” He gave a little bow of his own, conscious that, just a year ago, he had been no taller, and they had shared things, and there were no guns and guards all about them. It was different. It was very different. He would never again be just nadi‑ji down here, or up there.

They had tried more than once, last year, to work out those forbidden words–man’chi, from his side, and friend, from theirs. Love. Like. All those things he was never supposed to say to them, and they were never supposed to say to atevi–well, they were never supposed to talk to atevi, which was why they had met in the tunnels, but they had found a way to talk, and they had talked, and they had an association they all believed was real.

And they were back to that, with his aishid standing next to him, and with Great‑uncle’s guards nearby, and him having to remind them–that if they were going to continue as associates, on the world or in the heavens–he would have to be obeyed.

“Nandi,” Artur said. And Irene said, after thinking about it, and with particular emphasis and a polite little dip of the head: “Nandi.”

Thunder boomed, outside. There was silence after that. They were waiting, looking at him. He gave the orders.

“We shall go upstairs,” he said, not sure their offering was man’chi, with no way to tell if it was friendship, no way to tell what they were trying to be, or whether he was pushing them away–but they tried. “Nadiin‑ji, I shall show you the main floor, the parts you missed, and then we should be in the dining room before mani and Great‑uncle.”

· · ·

They were first into the dining hall, waiting with a little light fruit juice, when Bren came in, and Jase, with just Banichi and Jago.

“Well!” nand’ Bren said in ship‑speak. “Nand’ Cajeiri, nadiin. A very nice appearance.”

“One is gratified, nandi,” Cajeiri said, for his guests, who copied what he said, a faint echo.

Jase asked, “How do you like the weather? They have arranged a storm for us.”

“Nandi.” They all said it, and nodded in just the right degree. “Interesting, nand’ paidhi,” Gene said, very properly. “We went down and looked . . .” He ended with something quite unintelligible. Artur choked and looked away, trying Cajeiri could tell, not to laugh, which would be rude. But Irene clarified for Gene: “Looked out from the door, nandi.”

“Security approved,” Cajeiri provided quickly.

“One indeed heard so, young gentleman,” Bren said.

By the tapping sound echoing in the high hall outside it was clear now Great‑grandmother was coming, and Great‑uncle, and the bodyguards took their places, standing by, as mani’s and Great‑uncle’s bodyguards arrived, and went to their places at opposite ends of the table. They all stood up as mani and Great‑uncle came in, and servants positioned themselves to help with the seating.

“Well,” mani said at the sight of them. “Such a splendidly turned out company.”

“Nandiin,” Gene and Artur mumbled. “Nand’ dowager, nandi,” Irene said, the proper form, very faintly, at the same time. They all bowed, they all sat, and to Cajeiri’s relief mani and Great‑uncle seemed extraordinarily pleased, though they went on to talk to nand’ Bren and nand’ Jase while the servants poured wine and water. Then they talked about the shipment of part of Great‑uncle’s collection to the museum in the Bujavid.

The first course arrived. And adult talk went on, talk about the neighbors, while Cajeiri said nothing at all, not wanting to draw his guests into that discussion. His guests were all quiet, very quiet.

The second course, and Great‑uncle asked if the guests had noticed the storm rattling about outside.

“Yes, nandi,” came a chorus of whispered answers, everybody sitting upright, eating some of everything they were offered, though once or twice with a shudder. They were being exemplary, Cajeiri thought. He could not eat the pвtй.

The third and fourth and fifth courses came, with occasionally a question to the guests, and a little adult talk. They all kept to Yes, soup, please and not a word in excess, except that they were delighted by the fruit and cake dessert, and ate all of it.

Then Great‑uncle put aside his fork and said that they might attend the brandy hour.

Cajeiri had rather planned on an escape. But he bowed and said, carefully, as everyone was getting up, “You are greatly honored, nadiin. We are offered tea with mani and Great‑uncle.”

They were brave. There was not a sigh, not a frown in the lot. They just got up and went to the sitting room.

And just inside the door, before they had a chance to sit down, Great‑uncle stopped, and signaled his head of security, who handed him a folded paper. “Nephew,” Great‑uncle said, and handed it to him. “One delights, on the approaching felicitous occasion, to present you with a gift, from your great‑grandmother and myself.”

Cajeiri looked at the paper, and found a name: Jeichido, daughter of the second Babsidi and Saidaro.

He knew Babsidi. Babsidi was mani’s mecheita, leader of mani’s herd.

“The dam was mine,” Great‑uncle said. “She is not a leader in my herd–you are, after all, a young rider–but she will not shame you. She is yours.”

“Great‑uncle!” he exclaimed.

“An earnest, Great‑grandson,” Great‑grandmother said, “of the stable you will one day have, and a son of the first Babsidi will be yours when you have the strength and the seat.”

“Shall we ride, then? Is she here?”

“We shall ride,” mani said firmly. “We have the grounds under our control, we expect this storm to pass and leave us clear skies, and it has been far too long, far too long. If your guests will wish to ride, your great‑uncle has several fat and retired mecheiti, who will go very gently.”

“Yes!” he said, and bowed deeply, to mani and to Great‑uncle.

“You must remember that you have guests, and not run. We shall not be other than sedate, Great‑grandson.”

“No, mani. We shall not. Thank you!” He was happy, happy beyond all his expectations. Nand’ Bren and nand’ Jase looked uneasy. But mani said it was safe, and Cenedi, right next to mani, looked perfectly content. “I shall tell my guests. Thank you!”

He took the precious paper, which, once he got back to the Bujavid, was going to go into that little box, not in his office, but in his bedroom, where he kept his most precious things . . . not that anyone would ever dispute mani’s and Great‑uncle’s gift–but that was a box full of things that made him feel good, whenever he was disheartened. He showed the paper now to his guests, and opened it, with the date of Jeichido’s birth–she was ten–and the names of all her ancestors.

“Mani and Great‑uncle have given me a mecheita of my own, nadiin‑ji. And we shall ride tomorrow. On mecheiti. We shall go on mecheiti.”

“We,” Artur said. “On mecheiti. ”

“Mani promises we shall not run. We shall be very safe. They will not go fast.”

“How do you tell them that?” Artur asked, in ship‑speak this time. “They’re taller than the bus!”

“Not as tall as the bus,” Cajeiri said, which was the truth. They only came up to the windows. He was disappointed, but he whispered back, “If you’re scared–”

“No,” Gene said in Ragi. “I shall go.”

Artur looked doubtful, but he nodded.

That left Irene, who looked scared to death. She clenched her jaw and said, very faintly, “Yes.”

· · ·

“Shall we be safe out there tomorrow?” Bren asked, once he and Banichi and Jago got back to their quarters, two brandies on, and got a very, very slight hesitation.

“We have some concern,” Banichi said. “But in this gift and this event, Cenedi says the dowager is particularly determined. She had planned this for after the party, in the Bujavid, and with no access to Lord Tatiseigi’s stables. But the opportunity is here, and given the attractions of the visitors, and the unhappy situation in the Bujavid, which may or may not be resolved by the time we return–Cenedi’s assessment: she would not be crossed in this.”

It was, one understood, Babsidi’s daughter. And a gift the dowager had waited years to give. And the perfect moment–give or take the harassment from the Ajuri side of the blanket. Ilisidi didn’t make emotional decisions, or didn’t–that he had ever seen. But if there was one that just might reach that degree of determination, with her–this one, involving her great‑grandson and a favorite of all her years, in her lifelong passion for riding and hunting–this occasion, they had to understand, yes, approached the level of an emotional decision.

“I shall try not to break anything tomorrow,” he said. “Most of all, we shall keep the youngsters safe.”

The riding really was safe, as Ilisidi proposed it. Jase was dubious, worried about himself, as well as the kids–but this was not a breakneck ride through hostile territory, on a beast with a snaking neck and a disposition to use its tusks for right of way to challenge its herd leader. Nokhada, his own Nokhada, was safely pastured at Malguri, and they would be putting the youngsters on the oldest, least ambitious members of the herd, the perpetual hindmost, who would resist any order from the rein, and simply keep up with the herd, using as little energy as possible. Stay in the saddle, tie the rein to the ring, since it was virtually useless, and watch the scenery–that was what they would have.

He actually could ride, which put him in danger of being given one of the herd‑foremost, some young mecheita with ambition, but he truly hoped not.

And when he contemplated the idea, lying in the dark and listening to the thunder above the roof, he found himself looking forward to the ride. Actually looking forward to it.

· · ·

“We’re going to go very slowly, nadiin‑ji,” Cajeiri said, as they all knelt at the sitting room window. The curtains were back and the window open just a little, so they could hear the storm and the rain, which beat down hard at the moment. “Mecheiti go in order. And I shall be riding mine–” He could hardly wait. He truly could hardly wait. He knew Antaro and Jegari were looking forward to the ride as much as he was. Lucasi and Veijico were from a mountain clan, and had not been such habitual riders, but they would manage, he was sure. “But I shall hold her back, nadiin‑ji. I shall be very careful.”

Lighting chained across the sky, whitening everything, the little stand of trees that ran beside the house, the stable roof, the pens. Thunder was instant. His guests jumped, and everybody laughed nervously.

“That is right over our heads,” he said, laughing with them, enjoying the window, and the safety, and the storm.

“But the roof protects us,” Irene said. He had established that with them.

“This is the safest place to be except the basement,” he said. “And in the morning, everything will be wet, but that will not stop us, either.”

“Your great‑grandmother and your great‑uncle are really going to ride?”

“Oh, they may ride the herd‑leaders!” he said. “They are very good riders.” But, he thought, mani was so frail, now, this last year. “Except they will not be riding fast at all, with new riders in the group. You shall see. We shall get you up safely–that is the hardest; and then you just stay in the saddle. There are rings and straps to hold on to.” He made a ring with his hand. “Like that. Take‑holds. ” He remembered the word for the little recessed bars on the ship.

“Take‑holds,” Artur said. “Good!” Artur seemed a lot happier with that idea.

Irene had not said much. She had agreed, but she was scared. She always was, of new things. But she was going to try.

She was not going to get hurt. He had his mind made up on that.

He just wished he could convince Irene, who probably was not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.

She had said, when they had walked back to the room, “The table was so pretty. Everything was so pretty.”

She had even eaten the pвtй, and never complained, though after they had gotten back to the room, she had gone looking for the little medical kit in her baggage, saying her stomach hurt.

She had tried so hard. But Irene always had.

Now she leaned with her chin on the windowsill and watched the lightning and listened to the thunder, only flinching at the loudest thunderclaps. “It’s real,” she said. “Pictures aren’t enough. They just aren’t enough.”

13

Bren dressed in his roughest clothes the next morning–his valets had packed a good outdoor coat for him, and had anticipated a country venue might require it. They had assured him through the usual servant‑to‑servant whispering that that would be perfectly fine for breakfast–that the guests would be in their ship‑style clothing.

His aishid prepared in their own way, but their preparations were less about wardrobe than armament, in case, and in communication with the house security station. The word was, throughout the system, it was a fair morning with a light, nippy breeze, and there was nothing changed in the security stance.

Jase turned up, alone, but cheerful, in his blue station fatigues and an insulated brown coat. “Kaplan and Polano beg off. I gave them the chance. They said if anything did go amiss, they’d need rescue themselves. They said better take two more who know what they’re doing.”

“Not nervous, are you?”

“Not as long as I ride with the kids,” Jase said. “You do as you please, friend.”

“I’m perfectly content with that.”

They all met downstairs, in the dining hall, the breakfast room being for intimate gatherings. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had turned out in riding clothes, while Cajeiri wore a sturdy black twill coat, and Jase and the youngsters from the station all wore their own comfort‑wear, with jackets.

It was a quick light breakfast and out and around to the mecheita pens, where a rumbling low complaint said the grooms were letting their charges know they were indeed going to work this morning. The sky was clear blue, and the air was chill–it was not quite to the stage of breath frosting, but it was close, and the mecheiti were in high spirits.

A party of their size meant saddling just about every mecheita, and while it ordinarily meant more control, with more of the herd under rein, with novice children in the group, they needed a serious rider to handle the herd leader, and whatever constellation of fractious competitors the herd’s current composition afforded them. In days past it would have been Ilisidi riding foremost, with Cenedi and Nawari right beside her, hellbent for anything the terrain offered.

But that wasn’t Ilisidi’s choice today. Tatiseigi, who was of an unguessable age, likewise declined, and while one could have ultimate faith in the dowager’s skilled hand, one worried.

Not to mention worrying about his own lately unpracticed self. And Jase.

A groom brought the herd leader out to the pen, and Tatiseigi gave the order for two grooms to take the lead, which was, in Bren’s opinion, the best arrangement.

Other mecheiti came out, under saddle. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi and their bodyguards went into the pen to mount up–they had no trouble to get their mounts to extend a leg and allow an easy mount, but Ilisidi accepted a little help from Cenedi at the last. Tatiseigi managed on his own, on what Bren rather suspected was a retired herd‑leader, a mecheita with a conspicuous raking scar on his rump.

And from that lofty vantage Ilisidi and Tatiseigi called Cajeiri over, and introduced him to a fine‑looking ten‑year‑old, a rusty black, with a red tassel on the bridle ring and a ring of red enamel on each of the bright brass tusk‑caps.

This was Jeichido, no question, and Cajeiri looked uncharacteristically nervous and excited–quite, quite happy, and emoting just a shade too much around a high‑bred mecheita. Ilisidi gave a quiet, “Tut, tut, tut,” that meant calm down, pay attention, as if she were talking to the mecheita.

The young gentleman calmed himself, took the single rein, made a spring for the mounting loop set high on the animal’s shoulder, and with his left toe in the assisting fold of leather, he was up, rein and quirt in hand, the first leg over, and the second foot settling comfortably into the curve of the mecheita’s nape. Jeichido fidgeted a few steps, then swung neatly about at a light tap of the quirt. Antaro and Jegari were up.

“Good luck to us,” Jase muttered, then.

It was their turn. The junior grooms were kind, and afforded them the mounting block, with two grooms to steady the mecheiti, who were not likely to regard an unskilled demand for the extended leg. His aishid needed no such help, and that was six more of them safely in the saddle.

That left the children, and three quiet, older mecheiti, sleepy‑looking animals–there were four younger spares and a new foal milling about the pen at loose ends, making trouble, occasioning a threatening head shake from Tatiseigi’s mount and a warning from the junior grooms. But these were the oldest in the herd. They’d follow the herd leaders at whatever pace they could muster, to the ends of the earth, but they wasted none of their energy. The first stood with eyes half‑shut as the grooms first lifted Artur up, and then led up a mecheita for Irene.

The herd‑leader, however, had gotten wind of odd‑smelling small strangers, and was circling under taps of the groom’s quirt, wanting to get closer, chuffing and blowing, sloping hindquarters aquiver with impatience. He–it happened to be a male–let out a moaning rumble, a threat, a warning. They very much needed to get this lot out of the pen and moving on this cool morning.

Irene looked at the herd‑leader, who had been put into another frustrated circle, and with a slip of her foot on the first step of the mounting block, she recovered her balance. Then she froze, with a look of terror on her face.

“Come on, Reny,” Gene called out. “Move! You can do it!”

She came unfrozen. She settled her balance on the block, faltered her way up another step onto the top of the block, dropping the rein as she caught her balance. The groom handily caught it as it fell and gave it back, folded the same hand about the quirt and shoved her upward without any preamble. Irene grabbed the saddle back, not the mounting strap, missed the toehold, and as the mecheita took a step forward, she lost contact with the mounting block and hung there, dropping the quirt. Bren loosed his rein and shifted his quirt, deciding to ride alongside and tell Irene to go back upstairs and ask Cajeiri’s servants for a cup of tea.

But she had hold of the front ring instead of the quirt, and she started hauling herself upward. The groom caught a flailing foot in his hand and lifted. Irene landed belly down, managed to drag her right leg over the saddle back and, as the groom tried to keep the old mecheita still, Irene hauled herself upright, grabbed the ring, dragged her left foot into its proper place in the curve of the neck and, panting, took the quirt a second groom put back into her hand.

“Loop around your wrist,” Bren said in ship‑speak. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She gave her head a shake, getting the hair out of her eyes. “Yes, sir!”

Bren worried. She looked very, very small up there, and looked terrified as the old mecheita moved in response to the shifting of the rest of the herd, but she had made it.

Meanwhile Gene had tried to go up Cajeiri’s way, didn’t quite have the reach, but two grooms had just swept him up and put him into the saddle as if he weighed nothing at all. Gene awkwardly sorted out reins and quirt as the mecheita, let at liberty, turned and came alongside Irene’s, giving it a casual butt of a tusked jaw.

“Hold on,” Jase said. Gene had acted as if he had an idea what he was doing, the grooms had let the mecheita go, and there was a butt and a head flung back, the two old girls in a momentary fuss, brass tusks flashing, but there was no great fire in it. Algini rode in and settled the situation with a little flick of the quirt.

The head groom then let the leader move toward the gate, the herd‑leader’s rivals shouldered their way after him, and a junior groom opened that broad gate and rode it outward as it swung. The herd‑leader exited, ready to stretch out and run, and the entire pen emptied out in rough order of herd rank, except the one youngster trying to keep up with its mother and scrambling with amazing shifts through the towering crowd. The impetus of the herd slowed fast–the three lead riders got them all to a sedate pace.

Bren, carried through the gate in the initial rush, looked back at the youngsters at the rear, made sure they had all made it. Cajeiri and his aishid pulled aside from the leaders, likely trying to wait for his young guests, but stopping began to entail a discussion with Jeichido. The boy was managing at least to hold his position, but only just. Jeichido was having none of it, and he began to let Jeichido move up again, but Jegari peeled off and rode back to the rear, a lad who’d grown up riding and who had no trouble violating the herd order, even on a strange mecheita.

So Jegari was going to ride with the kids.

Good, Bren thought, took a deep breath and relaxed as the mecheiti, denied a mad dash, swung into their traveling stride. They swept along beside the house and across the drive to the end of the low inner hedge. Beyond that was pasturage damp from the rains, so wide and rolling a range the limiting hedges were out of sight.

On grass, the pace stretched out and became as smooth as silk, and Bren relaxed. His aishid was with him. Jase was. The air was brisk, the sky was brilliant, and, God, it felt good to ride again, even if it was not his Nokhada–he felt a pang of longing for that troublesome but excellent beast, whom he’d not seen since he’d gone into space. He didn’t know this one’s name, nor did it greatly matter this morning, just that she was not an ambitious sort. Behind Tatiseigi’s bodyguard was perfectly fine for him and for Jase, and Banichi and the others were on his right.

He looked back from time to time, double‑checking on the youngsters with Jegari–he saw Irene laughing, riding beside Gene’s mecheita with no trouble. A little into the ride, after a little argument to the side of the group, Cajeiri and Jeichido finally came to an understanding about dropping back in the order, and Cajeiri and Antaro and the older pair of his guards held back to ride with his guests for a bit. That lasted maybe a quarter of an hour. Then those three gradually drifted forward in the order. They stopped to talk to him and Jase, while Jeichido wanted to keep going, and that sparked another little exchange, which disturbed all the mecheiti around them.

“This mecheita is determined, nandiin,” Cajeiri laughed. “Great‑uncle said she will need work.”

“She is very fine,” Bren said, and Cajeiri held Jeichido steady about that long before she wanted to break forward again. He held her long enough to make the point, then waved and was off again, forward, up to his great‑grandmother.

Ilisidi seemed to be enjoying herself at least as much as Cajeiri. She had walked with a cane as long as Bren had known her, but in the saddle, it always had been a different story. He had seen her, on Babsidi, take rocky hillsides that challenged her young men–worse, he had been on a mecheita who wanted to follow her. She was laughing, talking to her great‑grandson, and so was Lord Tatiseigi–those who knew them only in the Bujavid would be amazed. But he was not. Open country was where Ilisidi had always been happy, far removed from the Bujavid and as removed from politics as Ilisidi ever was.

Today, everything was entirely as she had arranged it to be, Tatiseigi was happy, Tatiseigi had given the boy the earnest of the gift she had arranged for him–the continuance of the line of mecheiti she had ridden to national legend.

And if her great‑grandson’s happiness entailed three human children–he wasn’t that sure she hadn’t had a hand in their getting down here, too. Geigi did nothing that displeased her: if she wanted those three to come down, he’d make certain it happened.

One had to wonder, however at her reasons for that decision. Happiness? Possibly, but one got onto very shaky ground, assuming Ilisidi made any choice based on grandmotherly softness.

That the boy had had no atevi contacts at all who were children–that had not been her choosing. Her goal had been to keep him alive. That was first. Giving him a childhood? Not even a factor.

But when the boy went out and made his own associations among the humans, she also hadn’t fought it. Ever. She was a master chess player. Had she suspected even then the possibilities in such an association?

Silly question.

What Jase had said, what Geigi had said, about the factions shaping up in the human half of that equation–did one lay any bet at all that Ilisidi hadn’t heard, from Geigi, the entire business, and that Ilisidi hadn’t made up her own mind that, while her great‑grandson had had to come down to the world and deal with atevi and let atevi instincts shape his reactions–he should not give up his direct links to the powers in the heavens either?

When it came to atevi in the heavens, Ilisidi, who stood for the traditional–was hell‑bent on being sure atevi were well‑informed and in charge.

It wasn’t cynicism that made him absolutely certain Ilisidi had had all the reports on the politics involved in her grandson’s guests, or that she had had a hand in getting them down here. It was experience.

Their course took them far, far beyond sight of the house, but still within the hedges, in a pasturage so wide that, where one saw a hedge, it was only on one side. There was no road here, only grass. There was no disturbance in the world.

Until the lead mecheiti stopped, cold, head up, and the foremost dipped their heads and snuffed the ground.

Every mecheita in the herd jolted to a stop. Ranks closed. Bren looked back to check on the youngsters. They were all still in the saddle, their sensible mounts quiet, alert but not jostling each other.

“Track,” Jago said, as Banichi talked, probably with Cenedi, short‑range. “Mecheita. It was made since the rain. We advised the camp this morning–perhaps a little late–to keep their riders in camp.”

One didn’t want two herds encountering, not with new riders in the group. The lead mecheiti all had their heads up, nostrils working, hindquarters stretched, and one, the herd‑second, actually raised up a little on her hind legs, the long neck giving her a view of all the grassland about. She came down, backing and turning under the rein and taps of the quirt.

The herd‑leader gave out a moan that shocked the air. Every mecheita in the herd was head‑up, alert, heads all facing toward the same point on the horizon. They had mayhem in mind, no question.

Ilisidi however, extended her quirt and swept a calm gesture as she suggested a turn. Tatiseigi ordered the head riders, and they argued their mecheiti into a sharp change of direction, back toward the estate road.

“Not trouble, is it?” Jase asked.

“No, nandi,” Tano said. “There is a track going south, one of the Taibeni early this morning, one is informed, and the herd‑leader has caught the scent. The aiji‑dowager wants us to veer off from the camp, and not let the herd‑leader believe we are letting him follow that track. He owns this range, and is very willing to prove it.”

The herd‑leader was arguing strongly about the direction change, fighting the rein and the taps of the quirt. The groom was struggling to control the animal, and Ilisidi, who had used to ride in competitions, was probably struggling, too, to restrain her advice to the man.

The leader, however, was unsettling the herd. Herd‑second was still spoiling for a fight, looking in the forbidden direction and making that moaning threat. Bren’s mecheita had gone to a looser gait, ready to jump at the least indication the leader was going, trying to move forward in the order. Jeichido was giving Cajeiri an argument, close to slipping control, and suddenly came close to the front. Ilisidi turned her mecheita about and shouldered Jeichido hard. There was a flare‑up, a flash of brass tusk‑caps as heads swung, but Jeichido’s attack missed. Ilisidi had spun full about and come up on Jeichido’s flank. Jeichido realized it and whirled around to protect herself.

Ilisidi popped the quirt right across Jeichido’s nose. Jeichido shied off, haunches dropped, which could propel the mecheiti into fight or flight. Cajeiri reined hard and used his own quirt to take her away from Ilisidi.

The boy had stayed on and stopped her. Thank God. Cajeiri had a high‑powered mecheita under him, and while she wouldn’t break past the herd‑leader, she seemed to have taken it in her head that she could move forward.

She wasn’t doing that while Ilisidi was riding the mecheita in front of her.

“One apologizes, mani!” Cajeiri called back, keeping Jeichido circling to distract her.

“Best we turn back to the stables,” Ilisidi called out. “They will be unsettled, now, and we have our young guests to consider. We have had exercise enough.”

Tatiseigi gave the order, and the grooms reined back on a wide U, not retracing their path, but headed in the direction of the house. There was a little excess energy in the herd since the flare‑up, the leader still protesting with shakes and turns of his head. It needed steady effort from the foremost riders to keep the pace slow and the direction unchallenged.

“Just as well we go back,” Bren said, watching as Cajeiri reined Jeichido all the way around to go back to his guests–who had had, surely, a momentary fright.

“Indeed,” Jago said, but her voice was uncharacteristically distracted, and when he glanced at her, he caught her, just for a moment, staring off toward Banichi.

“Was it Taibeni, Jago‑ji?” Bren asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Of that we are certain. But Cenedi has ordered us back.”

Caution? Bren asked himself. Communications were at a minimum. They were not sending details abroad. But the space within the hedges suddenly seemed less safe than a moment ago.

· · ·

“Are you all right?” was the first thing Gene asked as Cajeiri rode close and came about. “Is your great‑grandmother all right, nandi?”

“Oh, mani is very well!” Cajeiri was a little embarrassed to have lost control of Jeichido so that mani had had to step in, but Jeichido did not know him, and was testing whether she could get her way. He was not as good as Antaro or Jegari, even, and far from as good as mani or Great‑uncle. He hoped his guests had not thought him a fool.

“What was it?” Artur asked. “What was it, nandi, on the ground?”

“A smell. One of the Taibeni, the riders from beside the bus. One had been out here in the pastures, and possibly Uncle’s mecheiti have been smelling them for days, even from as far away as they are. The herd‑leader caught the scent and he was ready to lead the herd over to that camp and show them this is his pasture.”

“Would they fight, nandi?”

“The Taibeni mecheiti would probably tend to run, unless their riders turned them around. But only enemies would do that. We are quite safe. Uncle’s staff told the camp we were going to be out riding this morning, and they were not supposed to be out on patrol. But evidently somebody was out early, after the rain. Are you all right, nadiin‑ji?”

“It was scary,” Artur said.

“They managed very well,” Jegari said, who had been with them. “They held on and made no bad moves.”

“She is a very nice mecheita,” Irene said, patting the mecheita so slightly it probably never felt it. “All the others were upset, and she just stood there.”

Irene’s was a very old mecheita, with white hairs around her nose, but Irene was happy with her.

And no one had fallen off when the herd stopped.

“Excellent,” he said. Jeichido was starting to shift about under him, wanting to move. “We are on our way back. It will be long enough riding, by the time we get there. I shall see you at the house.” Jeichido swung about on her own, took a step, and he put her one full circle in the opposite direction to have it clear he was in charge. Then he took her quietly back up the line, restraining her urge to run–if she did, it would start everybody trying to run, considering they were heading toward the stables now. He had no desire to end a very good day by having Irene or Artur take a fall.

And he hoped he looked very impressive and recovered a little good opinion after the situation with mani. It might be more impressive to his guests to let Jeichido take out running. But it was, at the moment, mani and Great‑uncle he wanted to impress. He rode Jeichido at a steady pace all the way to her place near the head of the column, put her exactly where he wanted her to be, and dared take a glance at mani, who just nodded, approving.

So did Great‑uncle.

That was almost as good as a fast race home. He had redeemed himself. And he kept that same traveling‑pace, with his bodyguards behind him and Great‑uncle beside him, all the way to the house.

They crossed the drive, went down the walk beside the house. The younger grooms had the gate open, and the senior grooms rode through the gate in single file, the head groom first, on the herd‑leader, and one after the other.

It was a challenge. He was determined to get Jeichido inside, exactly in her proper order, and with no breaking and rushing, and he kept his weight even and his feet still, except just a little tap, which he had begun to understand was enough with Jeichido.

Then they had to stand and keep their mecheiti from milling about, while Cenedi and Nawari slid down and helped mani get down–mani made her mecheiti drop a shoulder, and got down much more ably than he expected she could after that ride. One of the junior grooms handed her her cane as Great‑uncle’s senior bodyguard assisted him.

He himself, not confident he could get Jeichido to drop her shoulder, had gotten up the Taibeni way, with a jump, but that was probably not the best way to start with one of Great‑uncle’s stable, and it might have given Jeichido ideas she could get her way. He tapped her shoulder with the quirt, now, repeatedly, and after a little hesitation, she extended her leg, letting him swing down.

He wanted to take her into the stable himself, and work with her. But he had his guests to see to. He handed the reins to a junior groom, and thought if he could manage it he would come out to the stables later, and maybe have a little time with her.

But getting the mecheiti unburdened and into the stable had to go fairly quickly, for safety, and it was, each mecheita handed off in order, and the herd‑leader led into the stable to be quieted with a little reward of grain. The leaders were all clear, following him of their own accord. All around him riders were getting down, and he went to be sure his guests knew to get clear and get out.

Nand’ Bren and Banichi and Jago were with them, he saw, helping them get down; and mani and Great‑uncle were safe, over by the small gate people used leaving the stableyard. He just ducked through the rails, and waited for his guests beside the gate.

Within the pens, only the grooms were moving about now. Mecheiti, still under saddle, were mostly interested in the grain waiting for them, all threat forgotten.

“Well managed,” Uncle Tatiseigi said. “Well‑managed, Nephew.” Great‑uncle and mani went on to talk to Jase‑aiji and nand’ Bren.

And his guests came out, last, windblown, happy and a little out of breath.

“That was good,” Gene said in Ragi.

“Was it, nadiin‑ji?” he asked. He hoped it was. “Rene‑ji?”

“It was–” She lapsed into ship‑speak. “I did it! I did it and I didn’t fall off, did I?”

“Told you,” Gene said.

“I want to do it again,” Irene said.

“I’m sore,” Artur said. “But it was good. It’s so weird. You really wonder what they’re thinking.”

“Your great‑grandmother can really ride,” Gene said. “That was something! Were they going to fight?”

“Jeichido was going to move up past her,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “They try that. But mani is faster. And smarter.”

“Wow,” Artur said. “Jegari said they can run. I wish they ran.”

Cajeiri had to laugh. “Oh, they can run, Arti‑ji. They can run. We were all working to keep them just walking.” They had begun, after the others, to walk back to the house. “Hot baths, now. Or we shall all hurt tomorrow.” Antaro and Jegari were with him, and Lucasi and Veijico had stopped to wait for them, at the entry to the house.

“Nandi,” Lucasi said somberly, and nodded to the side of the door. Cajeiri stepped aside. So did his guests. And by Lucasi’s expression, whatever it was, was not good.

“Nandi,” Lucasi said, “your grandfather has just been assassinated.”

“Who?” he asked. Then: “Did my father do it?” He hoped not. He hoped his parents were managing to make peace while he was out of the way and not causing any trouble.

But if his father had just killed his mother’s father–

“Rumor has not had time to reach us,” Lucasi said. “We got this as we tapped into house base. One is not certain if Cenedi himself knows, yet. Jegari and Antaro are trying to learn details.”

Mani could have arranged it, Cajeiri thought, and Cenedi would certainly know.

Nand’ Bren had passed them, on his way into the house. Several of mani’s young men had lingered outside, watching them, Cajeiri thought, or maybe also getting the news.

He did not want to be looked at. He gathered up his guests and his aishid and brought them inside, then back into the nook under the adjacent stairs, trying to figure out what happened next in the world, and how to deal with his guests.

“Is something wrong?” Gene asked, and in Ragi: “What is it, nandi?”

“My grandfather is dead.” He did not want to alarm them. But they were going to find out. “Assassinated. Just now.”

They looked shocked. He was shocked, too, he decided. He was not exactly sorry, because his grandfather had threatened him, and his father, and scared him so he never wanted to see him again. But he was shocked, shaken, for some reason he could not quite understand.

“That’s terrible,” Artur said faintly. “We’re sorry.”

“One regrets,” Gene said in Ragi.

“What can we do?” Irene asked.

“Nothing. Nothing, nadiin‑ji. He was–” He had no words for his grandfather, even in Ragi, and the more complicated things were words his guests had not learned. “He was dangerous. Bad toward me. Toward my great‑grandmother. Toward my father.”

His guests looked confused, a little upset, not knowing what to do or say. And he only wanted to get them into a safe place and have his staff find out things.

“We are safe here,” he said. “No trouble.” He led the way back to the steps, and hurried up two flights of stairs with all of them behind him.

He thought then, at the very top step: Did Mother do it?

· · ·

“Who did it?” Bren asked of his aishid, inside the lower hallway. He had intended, when they had first gotten the word, to follow Jase upstairs to his room and see what his aishid and Jase himself could learn. But the dowager had said, shortly, with no reference to courtesy: “Nand’ paidhi,” and headed down the lower hall with Tatiseigi, Cenedi, and their bodyguards.

Singular, that brusque invitation had been–meaning it was a conference needing him, not Jase–needing his connection to the world and his particular need‑to‑know. Ilisidi was, with what skill he had at reading Ilisidi, caught by surprise.

He followed with his own bodyguard, a traveling briefing, at a pace that gave them a little time, before he should be swept up and told things as Ilisidi saw them to be.

Hence the: “Who did it?”–because one real possibility was Ilisidi; but by her sudden dark shift in mood he didn’t think she’d ordered it, or expected it.

“There are a range of possibilities,” Banichi said. “None certain.”

“Information is slower to come than we would like,” Algini said. “We have notified the camps. Security is on high alert–but there is no apparent threat to Atageini territory.”

The news was minutes old–had arrived on exterior Guild communications as they were riding into the stables. “When did it happen?” he asked.

“The event,” Algini answered, “within the last half hour. Details are lacking as yet, but his bodyguard has reported– they survived. The report came from Guild Headquarters. We relayed it to the aiji, so he is aware, in case the Guild has excluded his bodyguard.”

The damned restriction. The apparently petty rules question that now placed the aiji’s security in the dark, while there was an assassination that had reconfigured the political landscape.

Jago said: “We just now asked Jase‑aiji to notify Lord Geigi and signal we are not threatened here, Bren‑ji, but to be aware.”

“Has the young gentleman been informed?”

“His aishid, Lord Tatiseigi’s, and yours all had the first notice from the house. He has gone upstairs with his aishid and with his guests.”

Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.

It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji–but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.

He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble–but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and that meant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.

Ilisidi hadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.

“Recommendations, nadiin‑ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.

“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.

There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.

Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger–or weaker–leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.

Damiri?

If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.

They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.

There was a chair ready for him, point of a triangle with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. He sank onto it. There was no preamble, no formality of a tea service. It had gone straight into a business discussion.

“My great‑grandson has been informed,” Ilisidi said. “I shall call him into private conference and we shall talk. Lest you ask, we had nothing to do with this, paidhi. Nor did our host. About my grandson, or any other, we have no information.”

“We do not believe it is in any sense your grandson’s action, aiji‑ma,” Cenedi said. “We are less sure about Damiri‑daja, but we do not think it likely. We believe it is within Ajuri clan. That it should have happened, we find somewhat surprising, aiji‑ma, but not greatly so–if it resulted from Komaji’s actions in the capital. Many in the clan have not been satisfied with Lord Komaji’s leadership. His foray southward could have lost him man’chi. In that case, a new leadership will have to establish its policies and choose its enemies. We do not even know that it was a Guild assassination, or if so, if there was a Filing.”

“This is an uncommon lack of information,” Tatiseigi said, and Bren took in a slow breath and kept his mouth shut on the things he knew, which, at least to his knowledge, Tatiseigi did not know–close links between the Kadagidi and Ajuri. The significance of Haikuti being assigned to the Kadagidi.

That hypothetical administrator sitting inside the Guild, arranging his chess pieces about the board . . . would not want Damiri sitting in Komaji’s place, asking questions about Ajuri’s actions and Ajuri’s shaky finances . . . and least of all would he want her asking into Ajuri’s staffing.

“The outlook for our situation here, Nedi‑ji?”

A nod. “Improved, in the near term, aiji‑ma. We cannot answer for the choice the clan itself may make. We are still uncertain whether Lord Komaji had any idea that Tatiseigi is here, or that you and the young gentleman and his guests are not, as generally advertised, in Malguri. Popular speculation on the assassination is more likely to center on your grandson and the consort–and a belief that the aiji has acted without Filing may raise some debate and a demand for a Guild investigation, which would come to nothing. More worrisome, the aiji’s other enemies, known and unknown, may take alarm and reassess their security, fearing the aiji might have thrown aside Guild rules altogether and decided to act against them. The aiji’s choice of bodyguards is an ongoing issue with his detractors. His most dangerous enemies care less about the principle of Guild rules than about the aiji’s increasing ability to deny them information–and we have cut them off, we believe. In the last few days we have silenced every trickle of real information and substituted certain things that we have loosed like dye into a water source–to find out where it resurfaces. We have already seen results from that. But then–Komaji is killed, amid this silence we have created. The ones who killed Komaji know who killed Komaji, but certain of our enemies do not know, and the warier among them may no longer trust what information they do get.”

Ilisidi nodded as she listened, her hand atop the cane set before her, fingers moving in a slow, even rhythm. Tatiseigi had shut down all expression. But Ilisidi–only listened.

“Well,” she said. “Well‑stated, Nedi‑ji. We do not think, Tati‑ji, that Damiri‑daja has any intention of taking the lordship in Ajuri.”

“One would hope not, aiji‑ma!”

“And if Ajuri retreats from threatening Tirnamardi,” Ilisidi said, “we are glad. Have you any word, Bren‑nandi? Have you spoken to my great‑grandson?”

“He has gone upstairs with his aishid, aiji‑ma, and so has Jase‑aiji. Jase‑aiji is able to contact Lord Geigi, and will advise him, by means we do not believe our enemies can intercept, let alone interpret. My aishid will know the details.” He was not about to say, in front of Tatiseigi, that Lord Geigi, of all people, could look down from the heavens and tell the condition of Tirnamardi’s roof tiles. It was enough that Tatiseigi had Taibeni camped on his grounds.

“We have some concern, aiji‑ma, nandiin,” Cenedi said, “about the Kadagidi’s reception of this news–not impossible that they had something to do with it, since a threat to Tirnamardi would call on them, as members of the Padi Valley Association, to come to Tirnamardi’s aid–”

“Never mind they were the last brigands to shell my house!” Tatiseigi said, then, more quietly: “Forgive me, Cenedi‑nadi, but our old enemies the Taibeni have earned more Atageini trust in recent years than our Kadagidi cousins, and we have finally written it on paper and put a seal to it. One does not believe the Kadagidi are pleased with that turn of events, and they will not trouble themselves to assist us. Now, if they thought doing away with Komaji would please the aiji and win them a way back to court, well, that I would believe, but again–they cannot simply reach out and assassinate the man! There would have to be a Filing against Komaji, and as irritating as the man had become to most of his neighbors, even his own household, we have not heard of any Filing.”

“That is exactly the question, nandi,” Cenedi said. “We are not surprised lately when, in this contest of wills between the Guild Council and the aiji, the aiji’s bodyguard fails to get notifications–but when the aiji himself does not get advance notice of a Filing being voted on, and of the outcome of that vote? There need to be answers to this death, nandiin, if the answers do not point convincingly to a non‑Guild killer.”

Failure to notify a target and those living with him . . . violated the Guild’s charter with the aishidi’tat.

One citizen killing another, without due process? Except in self‑defense–in which case one could bring any resource one owned against the attacker–a civilian killing was simple murder, be it someone bypassing the Assassins’ Guild, or an Assassin using his Guild‑trained skills to kill without a Filing in effect.

If there was no Filing in Komaji’s case–there might be proof of what had been going on inside the Guild. And, damn, it would be a risk sending anybody up there to investigate. It had happened in the territory of an Ajuri dependent. The likelihood that any Guild action would be covered and any witnesses silenced was–unfortunately–a hundred percent.

Frustrating. A crime, in every sense, and they could not make a move in that direction.

Adding to the frustration, it was entirely possible that the Kadagidi lord, right next door, who might not know who was at Tirnamardi, might well know exactly what had just happened up north of them. Tatiseigi’s suggestion the Kadagidi might assassinate the Ajuri lord if it could get them back into Tabini’s good graces–

It would not have that effect, not an assassination without that vital Filing of Intent.

Was some paper going to turn up to try to make it legal? Did they think Tabini‑aiji, whose signature would make it legal, would quietly accept an outright false record, just because there was an advantage to his administration and his household in having Komaji out of the way? He could easily imagine Tabini signing such a document after the fact–for reasons of life, death, and the safety of the aishidi’tat. But not to make allies out of the Kadagidi, not even to patch a vital part of the Padi Valley back into union with its neighbors.

Initially, Tabini had isolated the Kadagidi and forbidden its lord to come to court for security reasons, because it was Murini’s clan, and they were still hunting Murini and his supporters. That ruling had never meant that the Kadagidi townsmen and shopkeepers and country folk were all murderers. Tabini had actually intended to lift the ban . . .

. . . until he’d gotten a dire warning from Cenedi–Bren strongly suspected it had come from Cenedi, or possibly from Algini, who had his own accesses into the problems Murini had left behind.

That . . . was the business they were going to have to deal with in very short order, once they’d gotten Cajeiri’s guests headed safely back to orbit. There was a strong possibility their problems inside the Guild, and particularly in Kadagidi clan, planned to launch another coup–eventually. If Komaji’s moves had put the Shadow Guild into a crisis . . . if they’d feared Tabini or Damiri, having defeated Komaji’s attack, might make a move on Ajuri, might get their hands on him, ask him questions, and then find records that led to the Kadagidi’s doorstep . . .

That was the situation their enemies couldn’t let happen.

That was the motive for Komaji’s assassination. He was sure of it.

One of the chess pieces overthrown. Others were still on the board. The Kadagidi would still be worried about records Komaji might have left . . . and about what the aiji knew.

Komaji had borrowed money from Damiri . . . because of a financial difficulty he had gotten into. He had tried to get into Tabini’s residence, as he had said, to see his grandson. He had behaved with increasing irrationality, acting like a man in a rising panic, for reasons that would not make sense unless one knew what pressure had been brought to bear on him.

Had Komaji decided to change sides and spill everything? Was that why he’d been so desperate to get into Tabini’s apartment? If that was the case, once banished, he’d be in extreme danger–and ironically, the fact Tabini had cast him out would be a comfort to the Shadow Guild, an indication Komaji had not yet talked. And talking–would have been Komaji’s only way to save himself. His best and only hope would be to gather his nerve, enlist the nearest person to Tabini that he could personally reach from his isolation in Ajuri–and that was his former brother‑in‑law, his old adversary–his daughter’s uncle. Tatiseigi. Tatiseigi would have been Komaji’s way to get a message to Tabini. And that Komaji hadn’t reached Tatiseigi–was now Tatiseigi’s protection.

He didn’t say a thing about the hypothesis that had just assembled itself in his mind, predicated as it was on information he wasn’t actually supposed to possess, and on pure speculation, but damned if he wouldn’t discuss it with his aishid at the first opportunity.

Tatiseigi had ordered strong tea, and the servants went about pouring it, which ended discussion for a time. It took a time to empty a cup–but there was not a second cup asked for. Ilisidi set hers down with a click, Tatiseigi did, and Bren quietly put his down a third unfinished.

“We shall proceed with the holiday, nandiin,” Ilisidi said. “We shall be alert. We shall trust, pending further movements in our direction, that our precautions are enough and Ajuri will have to settle its own difficulties in due time. Not today. Not tomorrow. But they will be settled.”

That walk about the reception hall . . .

There had not already been some discussion of Ajuri’s situation, between the dowager and Damiri–had there?

14

There was no word of what was going on in the world. Antaro said they were ordered not to use the communications unit. Lucasi and Veijico had gone downstairs a while ago to try to find out what they could from house security. They had told Eisi to keep the door locked. It had been a while, and still they had not come back.

Cajeiri could see his guests were worried, though he tried to assure them they were safe here and that he was perfectly fine–Antaro and Jegari still had their sidearms, that they had worn on the ride, and any danger was far, far off to the north.

Footsteps approached the door. Antaro and Jegari got up. Cajeiri thought it might be Lucasi and Veijico, but it sounded wrong. A knock came, and someone tried the door.

Then Jase‑aiji identified himself and his bodyguard, and that was all right. Eisi glanced back for permission, and Cajeiri nodded. Eisi unlocked the door and let them in.

“We know nothing useful,” Jase‑aiji said, first off. “Except that nand’ Bren is downstairs with your great‑grandmother, young gentleman, and Lord Tatiseigi, and one expects they are finding out all the details.” Then, in ship‑speak: “The young lord’s grandfather is dead, his mother’s father, a lord in the north of the continent. Understand, the grandfather has been a threat. He had been told not to come back to Shejidan. Ever. But he was the lord of a northern clan, head of a major association. Someone killed him, and we need to know who did it, and why, and whether it was a personal feud or something to do with the government. Don’t expect the young lord to be upset about it. It was not a close relationship. Beyond that, just accept that this is one of those instances where our way of thinking and the atevi way of thinking are very different, and just carry on as if nothing had happened.”

“We’re not going to have to leave, are we?” Irene asked.

Cajeiri wondered that, too . . . not that they could leave the planet, but he did not want to leave Tirnamardi, and Jeichido, and all, and above all he did not want to have another war break out. It was his birthday in just a few days, and he did not want a war and he was furious at his grandfather, who had done his best to be inconvenient just one more time.

He was scared that it might turn out it was his mother who had done it, and that would make his father mad, and when they went back to the Bujavid for his birthday festivity, it was all going to come out right in front of his guests.

He was furious, but he did not think he ought to try to explain that to his guests. It all went back too far.

He could hardly stand it. He walked over to stand by the window, which made him not have to listen to Jase‑aiji telling his guests everything was fine. A little breeze stirred the curtains, bringing a little welcome cold into the room–they had come in overheated and warm from exercise, and they had not even gotten a chance for their baths.

Antaro and Jegari came over near him, instinctive move–which helped a bit.

Jase‑aiji was wrong that he was not upset. He was upset. He was very worried that all of this was going to upset his guests and make it so they would never, ever want to come down here again.

He was damned mad. That was what nand’ Bren would say.

“Young gentleman,” Jase‑aiji said.

He took a deep breath, put on his best face, as mani would tell him to do, and was quite calm when he turned around.

“Nandi?”

“We shall be down the hall,” Jase‑aiji said. “If you need us.”

“Thank you,” he said. Thank you was in order. Jase‑aiji had certainly taken the trouble to look in on them. “We shall be fine.”

Jase‑aiji and his guard left. Eisi shut and locked the door . . . which made the room feel less like a fortress than a prison.

“We are sorry,” Artur said in Ragi.

“I am fine,” he said. “Thank you, nadiin‑ji.” He wanted a distraction. He went over to Boji’s cage. Boji had not trusted strange people in the room. He was rocking back and forth, clinging to the perch, and looking upset too.

He took Boji’s harness and leash from the little hook at the corner, and opened up the door to put it on. Boji started to get right onto his arm, then balked and wanted to smell his hand and his sleeve–of course: Boji smelled the mecheita, and licked his hand, finding it curious, and a little upsetting.

He had the harness. He slipped it over Boji’s head and under his chest and very quickly did the little buckle that secured it, keeping the leash in his last two fingers as he did. Boji fidgeted, Boji bounced around and chittered at him, bounced from him to the cage top.

Boji was an excellent distraction. His guests came over to see Boji, and he called for an egg and let Irene feed it to him.

Boji liked that. He even sat on Irene’s shoulder, and she gave an anxious laugh and flinched as Boji grabbed her loose hair.

They were rescuing Irene from Boji’s grip when a knock came at the door.

This time it was nand’ Bren and his aishid, and they came in.

“Nandi, nadiin,” nand’ Bren said. “You had the news about your grandfather, nandi.”

“He was assassinated, nandi. That was what we heard.” Boji had climbed onto his shoulder, and he held the leash with enough slack to let Boji bound over to his cage top, where Boji liked to sit at times. “Was it in Ajuri?”

“In a tributary clan’s territory. We still do not know the reason, or the person who ordered it–perhaps some quarrel inside Ajuri. We see no reason to be concerned at present. This could change, but your great‑grandmother sees no reason to change the security level here or to make any alterations in plans.”

He let go a breath, much, much happier at that news. It was a little odd to think that Grandfather was no longer in the world at all–but evidently his mother had not Filed on her father, and he could not imagine that his father had done it–he was, for a few days, still only infelicitous eight, but he knew enough of the politics to know that two actions against his grandfather in a very short number of days was inelegant, and his father had just taken one extreme action in throwing him and all the Ajuri staff out of the Bujavid.

No, his father wouldn’t have done it, not without extreme provocation, and if that were the case, nand’ Bren would tell him.

So there would be a new lord of Ajuri. He hoped it was not going to be his mother.

But that was all too complicated to talk about in front of his guests.

“Is my mother still with my father?” he asked. That was what he wanted to know, and that would tell him everything.

Likely nand’ Bren knew exactly what he was asking, and Bren answered quite cheerfully: “Yes, young gentleman, and they both are safe.”

The way he said it, and the way he added that second part was a relief. He hoped it was the truth.

But nand’ Bren was particularly bad at lying, and rarely tried to. And nand’ Bren had come from talking to mani and Great‑uncle, so he knew the latest, and nand’ Bren’s bodyguard was usually very well‑informed.

He thought then, If Mother did not do this, Great‑grandmother could have. Moving us all out here and moving all these bodyguards in, getting Great‑uncle to deal with the Taibeni . . .

Boji grabbed the tail end of his queue ribbon, which Boji sometimes untied, a trick he knew got immediate attention.

“Stop that!” He was immediately at disadvantage, and Boji, sitting on the cage, had him caught.

Nand’ Bren, amused, reached out to intervene. “Is he going to bite me, young gentleman?”

“He does not, often.” He was annoyed and amused at once, and he could not, even by twisting his body, get at Boji’s hand. Nand’ Bren’s reach, however, frightened Boji, who let go and bounded across the cage top, rattling it all the way.

“Boji! Behave.” He still had the end of the leash, which had a clip, and secured the leash onto the sturdy metal fretwork of the cage. “Stay there, and hush, Boji.”

Boji, who regarded no authority, chittered at him.

His ribbon was probably a sad thing, since the ride, and now Boji’s attentions.

“Are we to be let out now, nandi?” he asked. “We have not gotten our baths.”

“By all means. We have the bath at our end, you have this one, and one is certain your guests will by no means be insulted if Eisi guides them to the servant baths on this floor and the next above. Everyone will feel better. And if we are not all too sore to walk tomorrow, we shall take another ride.”

He brightened entirely. “One hopes so, nand’ Bren! One really hopes so.”

“There should be a light late lunch, served to the room. Staff is getting to work. Enjoy your guests. There will be music tonight: I understand your great‑uncle has arranged it. And there should be nothing to trouble you. Your great‑grandmother is determined that nothing will spoil your time here.”

“One is grateful,” he said, and Bren bowed and headed for the door, stopping to have a word with Eisi and Lieidi, probably about the baths, and Banichi and Jago had been talking to Antaro and Jegari, probably about security.

But they were all right. He felt a great deal better, after what nand’ Bren had said. Great‑grandmother was determined that he should have his birthday, no matter what. Nobody had ever quite put him at the top of priorities, not even his father and mother. He was quite struck by the notion of having someone like mani protecting what he wanted and bent on having that happen.

Boji had come back to the cage edge. He absently stroked Boji’s head and scratched his cheek, which got a happy clicking sound out of Boji, who had quite settled down.

“Eisi‑ji,” he said, “Ledi‑ji, we shall all need baths, did nand’ Bren explain about that? We shall be happy to use the servant baths if we may. A maid to attend Irene‑nadi. And then we shall meet back here and have lunch.” He saw his guests much more cheerful. “We are promised we are all quite safe, and there is no trouble at all.”

· · ·

Baths were a very good place for a quiet discussion, and Bren and Jase sat and soaked in the communal bath.

Banichi was in attendance, at the moment–guarding the door and assuring their privacy even from trusted staff, so that discussion was not a problem.

A few more details had come in. Komaji had been moving south, toward Atageini territory. The Taibeni had moved to within striking distance, while staying within Taibeni territory, and not made any secret of it. That threatened Komaji. Komaji had begun to move, not toward, but away from that encounter.

And, as he was getting into a small bus, one of four vehicles, the bus and three trucks, involved in the movement, he had been struck down by one very accurate shot. No one else had been hit. No one had seen the shooter.

It could have been Taibeni. There was no reason for the Taibeni lord not to have done it, no consequence but a continuation of a two‑hundred‑year‑old feud if he declared he had done it, and the Taibeni had no desire at all to make peace with Ajuri clan.

But the Taibeni lord had hastily informed both Shejidan and the units assigned here at Tirnamardi that Taibeni had not done it, and that he believed the style of the assassination, a shot from a small woods, was deliberately arranged to make it appear they had.

Bren personally laid his bets on the Taibeni telling the truth, particularly as it would look very bad to make such a move right now, while they had members of their clan sitting encamped on Tatiseigi’s grounds. If they were going to do it, it would have been better politics to wait until the aiji’s son was not also sitting in Tatiseigi’s house. The messiness of that move–no. Even the Taibeni’s several enemies would not believe it.

That still left a lengthy list of those who would have done it, quite cheerfully.

“Lady Damiri,” Bren said out of that thought, “is pretty well out of the question. Her bodyguard was dismissed. They could still be suspect, operating on her behalf, possibly on orders given before their dismissal, but we actually suspect they were reporting to Komaji. Her current staff is the dowager’s.” That was no guarantee, he thought. “She has been upset, but she would not act for emotional reasons, not on that scale. I think we can eliminate any of Tabini’s house, our host–”

“The dowager herself?” Jase asked quietly. “That has to be asked.”

“Perfectly possible,” Bren said, “except there’s no reason for her to deny it. And not without a proper Filing.”

“If it’s an in‑clan action, policy says I’m not officially interested.” Deep breath. “Humanly speaking–I’m entirely damned curious. How many Ajuri lords is that, just in the last decade?”

“Going on four,” Bren said. “The succession in Ajuri is a problem. Has been a problem for generations. You can see why Tabini doesn’t want Damiri under that roof, and he damned sure doesn’t want his son taking the lordship. That’s Komaji’s whole branch. His half brother died, likely with help, without an heir, so it’s the end of that entire line, except for a handful of females who lack the disposition and backing to rule. It has to go to a completely new branch now. There are two, and it may be a noisy transition.”

Far, far too noisy, Komaji. From his highly dubious ascension, to his equally dubious ending. He had started out doing very well for Ajuri clan–a little too ambitious, perhaps, and then far too ambitious, culminating in that final, jealousy‑driven assault on Tabini’s apartments, damaging to the clan’s interests, possibly for years to come.

If there were records left in Ajuri–he’d bet those were already ashes.

“Politics,” Jase said. “But you think we’re safe.”

“Physically safe.” Bren said. “Nothing’s crossing the hedge. Nothing’s passing the gate. And down here, your problems generally come in two dimensions, not three. We’re all right. Or at least–all right enough.”

“Two dimensions.” Jase shook his head. “But with far more cover.”

· · ·

Lunch was mid‑afternoon, very late, after their baths, and served in the suite rather than down in the dining rooms, but it was good, and they could sit in their casual clothes and be comfortable–even if they were all a little sore in places it was not polite to mention.

They talked about the morning, the ride. And Lucasi and Veijico, who had come back in time for baths and lunch, told what they had heard downstairs. Cajeiri translated the important parts, and then–

Then he told them story after story about Grandfather, including the night Grandfather had tried to get into the apartment when he was there with just a reduced staff and the servants. He told about his father banning his grandfather from the Bujavid, which really meant he had to stay out of the city, too.

Gene said, after a little silence, “If you act like that on the station, you get arrested, and they cancel all your cards and keys, and there you are, until they figure out how dangerous you are.” Gene added, with a downward glance, “I lost all my cards for sixty days, this year. But I was right. ”

“I let Gene use mine,” Artur said.

“I got him into places,” Irene said. “And Bjorn did.”

They would have done that. Cajeiri entirely approved. And Gene told him why he had gotten in trouble–he was trying to get into the atevi section of the station where humans were not supposed to be–like the mainland and Mospheira.

And Gene told what it was like to get arrested on the station, if one did not have a person like mani to straighten things out, or a father to call on, just one’s own cleverness, and the cleverness of one’s associates. He made it funny, even if he had been worried at the time. For a while, listening to their adventures on the station, it was like being back on the ship.

His guests wanted to hear, too, about the escapes he had had, and how it was, when he had flown back with mani and nand’ Bren and they had had to do all sorts of things, like riding on a train with fish, to get here to Tirnamardi without being shot or caught. He had written about it in the letters, but he had been very careful what he wrote, then, especially careful about naming names; and now they wanted to hear it all, through two rounds of tea and cakes.

They had gotten down to the shells falling on the lawn at Tirnamardi, and the stables being wrecked, and young Dur landing his plane, and–

A black streak bounded for the top of a chair.

That could not happen. Boji had his harness on. His leash was clipped to the cage.

Boji took another bound, toward the cage, and Cajeiri leaped up. “Close the window!” he yelled at Lieidi, who was closer, and ran to do it himself.

They all moved, knocking chairs aside, and Boji panicked. Boji dived straight for the open window, dodged Lieidi’s hands, and was out the window.

“Gods less fortunate!” Cajeiri leaned out over the sill, as far as he could, and heard his bodyguard, who had been caught by surprise, object to that effort, warning him not to try to reach too far.

Boji was down on a line of stonework trim, just out of reach. Cajeiri stretched further, felt hands on his coat, not pulling him back, but being sure he stayed in the window. “Boji,” he said quietly, reasonably, holding out his hand. “Boji, come back. Do you want an egg?”

Boji looked at him round‑eyed and frightened, then ducked down and skittered right down the sheer wall below, using his clever little fingers to find the joints in the masonry.

“Go out, nadi,” he heard Lucasi say to someone, “try to get him from below.”

“Boji,” Cajeiri called, holding out his hand. “Boji, the game is over. Come back.”

Boji stopped, down by the next tier of windows, and looked up at him.

“Get me an egg,” Cajeiri said, upside down, and with the blood rushing to his face and his hands.

“Egg,” he heard Veijico say, as the door of the suite opened and shut, and he could heard his guests’ voices, offering to help.

He could see the harness and leash on Boji, or about a hand’s length of the leash, and a ragged end where Boji had chewed it through. He lay across the windowsill as far as he dared.

“Egg, Boji! Egg!”

“Nandi.” That was Lieidi’s voice, and he did not leave the window or make any sudden move that might frighten Boji. He just held out one hand backward, and when an egg arrived in it, he slowly brought it down and offered the egg clearly to Boji’s view.

Boji had climbed down another little bit. The movement had gotten him to look up, and Boji did see the egg: the fixed stare of his golden eyes said he had.

“Come on,” Cajeiri said. “Come on, Boji, Boji, Boji.”

Boji was definitely interested. Cajeiri held the egg to make it completely visible.

“Boji? Time for your egg!”

Boji started climbing up the wall, one large stone and the other, his thin little arms holding him as strong little hands found a hold on the stones.

“Hold my legs!” Cajeiri said, and more than one person grabbed his legs and held on. He leaned a bit more, and Boji climbed after the egg.

Boji reached up to snatch the egg, Cajeiri positioned his other hand to grab the harness, and just then someone came running around the corner of the house below.

Boji looked down, screeched, bristled up, and took off diagonally, far, far across the wall, headed for another open window, not in their suite. He reached that window, clung just outside it.

Gods. Cajeiri counted windows, divided, trying to figure how many rooms that was and what suite Boji had gotten to.

Great‑uncle’s.

“Boji! Come back! Egg, Boji!”

Boji disappeared into the window.

Cajeiri began pushing at the sill and trying to get back inside, intending to run to Great‑uncle’s suite, knock on the door and avert disaster . . . but just then Boji came flying out the same window and came scrambling back toward him across the stonework, chittering and screeching. He was almost to the window, then veered off in renewed panic, diagonally downward, while the person below–Jegari–waited there to try to get him.

“Take the egg!” Cajeiri yelled down, and dropped it. Boji had descended almost to Jegari. Then that egg went by and Jegari caught it with a sudden move. Boji suddenly screeched, leaped away from the wall, clean over Jegari’s head, and took out across the lawn toward the stable fence.

“Damn!” Cajeiri cried, and began struggling to get back in, at which several people pulled him in and set him upright. “He went into Great‑uncle’s suite and came out! Now he has gone down into the stables! Come help me!”

“Nandi,” Veijico protested.

“He will not regard you,” he said, and saw Eidi hurrying to get his outdoor coat from the closet. “Never mind the coat, nadi!” He ran for the door, and his guests and his bodyguard ran after him. “Bring more eggs!” he cried, and went out the door, followed by whoever could keep up with him.

Guards in the hall were in short supply today, mostly at the other end, and Great‑uncle’s doors were standing open–possibly because of Boji–but the guards were looking in the wrong direction. He dived down the servant stairs, down and down, with his bodyguards and guests pounding down the steps behind him. He caught the wall to make a tight turn where the stairs gave out, and headed for the little side hall and the stable side entry, where there were two guards.

“Do not stop us, nadiin!” he cried, waving at them to open the door. “Boji has run for the stables! Open!”

They did, looking confused and dismayed at the outbound rush.

He ran out–they had collected a trail of Uncle’s guards from the lower hall and the door, following them, and he heard Lucasi say, in Guild directness, “The young gentleman’s parid’ja escaped into the stables, his aishid pursuing. Quiet! Do not alarm it!”

This, while they were still running. Three mecheiti who were out in the pen had their heads up to see what was going on, rumbling and threatening–and there was Boji, walking the railing, near the stable itself.

“Boji!” Cajeiri said. But Boji was having none of it. He made a flying leap for the stable wall and swarmed right up it onto the roof.

He started to go closer.

“Nandi!” Lucasi exclaimed, putting out a hand to prevent him. He stopped.

But so had Veijico stopped, and every Guildsman, all at once.

But not because of the mecheiti. The Guild were suddenly listening to something only they could hear.

“Alarm,” Lucasi said. “Into the house, everyone. Now!”

Cajeiri’s heart leapt to double‑time. It was trouble. Danger. General alarm.

“Run,” Cajeiri said to his guests, waving them back toward the house. It was his job to translate for them, to get them safely back inside. His bodyguard was doing what they had to do, and as more of his uncle’s guard came around the front of the house, weapons in hand–they ran up to the back door.

It was shut. Locked. Cajeiri pounded his fist on it, shouting, “Nadiin!”

Immediately it opened, in the hands of one of Great‑uncle’s older house guards, who let them back into the safe dim light of the lower foyer.

They could stop there and catch their breath.

Boji had escaped, and he had no idea how far Boji would run. But there was something far, far more scary going on. The halls echoed with people running. Guards were moving into position, checking what they were assigned to check.

And others were out there near the stables, looking for someone.

“What happened?” Gene asked, bent over and panting. “What’s going on?”

“One has no idea,” Cajeiri said.

· · ·

“Stable side door is secure, nandiin,” Banichi said, standing listening to what Guild could hear, and Bren and Jase could not. “The first alarm is accounted for. The parid’ja seems to have gotten loose. Jegari made an authorized exit in pursuit. The young gentleman and his guests exited, authorized. He is now inside with his guests, and safe. The parid’ja is still on the loose.”

“Could that have set the alarm off?” Bren asked, but just then Algini and Tano, who had gone outside, let Kaplan in.

“Sir!” Kaplan said to Jase.

“We’ve got a motion alarm,” Jase said to Kaplan. “North end of the house. The kids are downstairs, the little animal escaped its cage, and we’ve got some confusion going on out by the stable–but surveillance has picked up a more significant movement about twenty meters out. It appeared, then disappeared into the house perimeter–into range, then gone like a ghost.”

“Something came out of the house shadow,” Jago said in Ragi, “then went back in. The parid’ja is too small to trigger an alarm, nandiin‑ji. This was an unauthorized exit, and someone came back in.”

“And is in the house,” Bren said.

Banichi said. “The young gentleman and his guests have been escorted upstairs.”

“Condition yellow,” Jase said to Kaplan. “Go advise Polano. Stay on this floor. Keep in touch.”

“Yes, sir.” Kaplan saluted and left.

“Taibeni are saddling up,” Banichi said, “but they will not come within range of the house stables. One doubts they will find anything. A malfunction–a blowing scrap lofted on the wind, to the roof . . . it might be either. But we had a great deal going on at once just now, and Komaji’s assassination is still unattributed. We cannot dismiss this.”

“Yes,” Bren said, asking himself what in all reason but an exit from the building could have caused that alarm.

Evidently whoever it was hadn’t kept going, but had come back inside again. A servant who’d accidentally caused an alarm should be contacting house security immediately and explaining the problem.

All the youngsters were apparently accounted for. They had gone out the other door, come back in when the alarm went off.

“This isn’t good,” he said to Jase. “We have a serious worry, here. I don’t want the kids spotting that little creature and creating a problem.”

“I’ll go find them. Make sure they understand.”

“Do,” he said, relieved to have someone covering that angle.

The people the dowager’s staff had sent to Tatiseigi weren’t novices in any sense, and Cenedi had furloughed every servant and guard whose records gave any doubt. None of the ones still on duty were the sort to forget the alarms and sensors they’d installed and blunder into them. Even the youngsters had gone properly past a checkpoint and come back the same way. How did one avoid a checkpoint?

Banichi spoke to someone in verbal code.

And Algini and Tano came in from the hall.

“There seems no present danger,” Algini said. “Nor any reason at the moment to raise the level of alert. But we have asked Lord Tatiseigi to order all persons assigned to an area to stay in that area, and not to have staff moving about until we resolve this matter.”

That seemed a very good idea, in Bren’s estimation. “Is there any word from the capital,” Bren asked, “or should one be asking that question?”

“There is no alarm from the Bujavid,” Banichi said. “We have Taibeni moving on foot to the site of the disturbance, to locate any visible clue, and in case there is another such movement.”

Jago had been listening to something, sitting silent at the side of the room. “Word is now officially passing,” she said, standing up, “that the assassination this morning was carried out in a Guild manner. There has still been no public notice of a Filing.”

Without a public Filing.

No way was that legal, under any ordinary circumstances. A within‑clan assassination could be kept quiet–but it still had to go through Guild Council to show cause and it required substantial support within the clan.

“Gini‑ji,” Banichi said quietly, and Algini looked Banichi’s direction a moment. Then Algini nodded.

“Bren‑ji,” Banichi said. “Algini will tell you something which the dowager knows–but Lord Tatiseigi does not. This has been affecting our decisions and our advice. This is the information we sent Lord Geigi. We are not, at this point, briefing Jase‑aiji. This regards the inner workings of the Guild, and how the coup that set Murini in power was organized, how the organization persisted past Murini, and why Tabini‑aiji barred Ajuri from Shejidan. The aiji also is informed. Whether he has informed the aiji‑consort is at his discretion. We have urged him not to.”

Answers. God.

If they had figured all that out–on the one hand it was possible they had found what they had been trying to find for most of the last year; and on the other it was possible what they had been trying to find had located them, and this whole rearrangement of key individuals and their security was under threat.

Algini rarely gave anyone a straight and level look. He did now, arms folded, voice quiet: “We have known much of this since the affair on the coast, Bren‑ji. Information we sifted out of the Marid confirmed what we increasingly suspected: that Murini was no more than a figurehead. Convenient, capable of some management, yes, but he was at all times only nominally in charge. He appeared. He gave orders. But there were individuals who pressed a more organized agenda on him. That agenda involved isolating the aishidi’tat from the station–which they accomplished, as you know, by grounding all but one shuttle. Once isolated, they intended to put a completely new power structure in place in the Bujavid, and, once the aishidi’tat was secure under their rule, to restore contact with Mospheira and the station. Geigi would be removed in some fashion, with the specific goal of putting the atevi side of the station–and its capabilities–under their control.”

Bren pressed his lips on a burning question and Algini said: “Ask, Bren‑ji.”

“ Is the station compromised? Have they agents up there?”

“No.”

Bren took a slow, deep breath, greatly relieved. Without firsthand knowledge of the station, any hope of threatening it as outsiders was sheer fantasy. Atevi in general simply had no idea what Geigi could do from his post in the heavens.

“Needless to say, this goal was kept very quiet. Murini’s public stance was against the new technology, which touched on conservative aims, and led certain individuals to accept Murini as backing traditionalist views. Tatiseigi was safe, despite the Atageini feud with the Kadagidi, because the last thing the powers in charge wanted was to antagonize the Conservative Party by assassinating an elderly man and a head of the conservatives. Tatiseigi at no time supported Murini. He remained an uneasy neighbor of Murini’s clan, even a defiant one. But he remained, as they thought, harmless and useful.”

And hadn’t that assessment backfired, once Tabini returned?

“As to the means by which the coup was organized, Bren‑ji, and this leads to information the Guild does not discuss, regarding its internal workings–there are Guild offices traditionally reserved for members from the smallest clans. For centuries, this has been the case, so as not to allow an overwhelming power to gather in the hands of the greater ones.”

That was not something humans had ever known.

“The Office of Assignments,” Algini said, “is such a post. It is a clerical office, with what would seem a minor bit of power. It does two things. One: it keeps records of missions and Guild membership. And two: it makes recommendations for assignment based on skills, specialization, clan–there are in fact a number of factors involved in designing a team for a mission, or a lasting assignment.”

Algini relaxed a degree and leaned against the buffet edge.

“Historically, and this is taught to every child, the same document that organized the aishidi’tat centuries ago also reorganized the guilds–at least in the center and north of the continent–insisting that the Office of Assignments of all Guild personnel should attempt to find out‑clan units to assign within the clans, rather than permitting the clans to admit only their own. Theoretically, this would place the whole structure of the Guild under the man’chi of the aiji in Shejidan. The theory worked to make the guilds far more effective, to spread information, to stabilize regional associations, to unify the aishidi’tat in a way impossible as long as clan man’chi and kinships overpowered man’chi to one’s guild. Without that–the whole continent would not have flourished as it has. The East and the Marid declined to accept the out‑clan rule, and these regions have remained locked in regional feuds, exactly as it was before the aishidi’tat, to their economic and social detriment. The aiji‑dowager has made some inroads into the tradition in the East–one need not say–and the new legislation is bringing change to the Marid.”

A pause. A deep breath.

“Historically, then–the out‑clan provision has worked. And–for much of the history of the aishidi’tat, the Office of Assignments of the Assassins’ Guild has done its part well. It has kept its records, formed teams, and sent its recommendations to other offices to be stamped and approved by the Guild Council. There are so many of these assignments across the continent . . . it is routine. The stamp is automatic. One cannot remember there ever being a debate on them. Most often the local authority accepts, at its end, and the assignment is recorded. Understand, the Office of Assignments is a little place, smaller than this room, except its records‑room. It is not computerized. The current Director of the Office of Assignments has been running that office for forty‑two years. He has his own system, and he has resisted any technological change. He refuses to wear a locator, he will not accept a communications unit. The wits have it that he would have resisted electric light, except it had been installed the day before he took the office. It was not quite that long ago, but modernity does not set foot there. His name is Shishoji. And he is Ajuri.”

God. His administrator with the chessboard. A fusty little old man in a clerical office. A little old man who happened to be Ajuri.

“One had begun to suspect,” Bren said, “that this might involve some individual with an agenda.”

Algini nodded. “On the surface, it seems a little power, but placed in the hands of a person with an agenda, it is a considerable power–to know all the history of a team, and their man’chi, and to make assignments the Council traditionally approves without a second glance, before it gets down to its daily business.”

A system grown up over time. A man sitting in that office for four decades, moving Guild personnel here and there by a process that had no check and was a matter entirely of personal judgment. . . .

It was a terrifying amount of power, in the hands of someone who saw how to use it.

“How can the Guild have been so careless?” Algini asked, rhetorical question. “Senior members have known him for years. He is quiet. Efficient. The wits find him amusing. He has become an institution. His assistants–he makes those assignments, too–do things exactly as he likes them done. A minor officeholder may also do a few favors for his own clan, and one would not call it improper. Careful selection of Guild members, to support a lord of Ajuri–or Damiri‑daja–who could question it?”

Oh, my God.

“This is terrifying, Gini‑ji.”

“Less so, now that we know where to look. –Damiri‑daja may or may not know the situation. It is within Tabini‑aiji’s discretion to tell her. –We have been, for the last while, reviewing our own associations within our Guild, personally informing those we know are reliable, and trying not to make a mistake in that process that would alert Shishoji‑nadi that we are targeting him.”

“Do you think he set up the mechanism that supported Murini?”

“Very likely.”

“And the last two assassinations within Ajuri . . . were they at his direction?”

“Difficult to say–this man is exceedingly deft–but we suspect so, yes. Shishoji had, in the prior lord of Ajuri, a man who would support Murini. When Murini fell, and the Ajuri lord decided to change sides and take advantage of his kinship to Damiri‑daja, we suspect Shishoji feared the man would tell Tabini‑aiji everything once Tabini’s return to power was certain. That lord died quite unexpectedly. Komaji immediately stepped in, then began to behave peculiarly. He attached himself as closely as he could to the aiji’s household, did not spend much time in Ajuri, was trying to find a residence in Shejidan.”

“Possibly he understood his situation. Possibly he did not participate in the prior lord’s assassination.”

“It is entirely possible. Komaji may have known from the start that he had information that could, if he dared use it, place him in Tabini‑aiji’s favor–if he was absolutely sure Tabini was going to survive in office. Unfortunately for him, Damiri‑daja had staff that were not only a threat to Tabini‑aiji–they were watching Komaji. We suspect he was trying to gather the courage to make a definitive move toward Tabini‑aiji. And when the Marid mess broke wide open, and the aiji seemed apt to make an agreement with Machigi that might bring the aiji‑dowager more prominence–Komaji decided it was the time. Possibly he feared the aiji‑dowager’s closeness to Tatiseigi. He was not invited to the signing of the agreement with Machigi precisely because Tatiseigi was– and it was the aiji‑dowager’s choice. This upset him–possibly because he saw his opportunity to break free of Shishoji was rapidly dwindling, and he feared he was under Shishoji’s eye. He went upstairs to the aiji’s apartment. He was refused admittance. And at this refusal, in high panic and absolute conviction Tatiseigi and the dowager meant to separate him from the aiji and from his grandson, he broke down in the hallway. His nerve failed him, he no longer trusted his own bodyguards, and when the aiji, beyond banning him from court, sent Damiri‑daja’s bodyguards back to Ajuri along with him, Komaji had nowhere to go but Ajuri. Once there, he remained non‑communicative, secretive, and ate only the plainest food, prepared by one staff member. Then he made his last move, toward Atageini lands, with a handful of Ajuri’s guards, not his own bodyguard. –Did anyone of that company survive, Jago‑ji?”

“They are, all of them, dead, short of Atageini land.”

Algini nodded slightly, acknowledging that. “Not surprising.”

“Where was he going?” Bren asked. “What was he trying to do? Do we know?”

“We surmise that in the failure of all other options,” Banichi said, “he may have been seeking refuge here, in the house of his old enemy Tatiseigi, whose staff might get a message to the aiji‑dowager, to his daughter, or to Tabini‑aiji himself, offering what he had to trade. Likely he hoped that one of them would sweep him up and keep him alive in exchange for the information he had. He was not a brilliant tactician.”

One could almost find pity for the man. Almost.

“Nadiin‑ji. How long has this . . . dissidence in the Guild been around? Did this Shishoji organize it?”

No one answered for a moment. Then Algini said:

“That is a very good question, Bren‑ji. How long–and with what purpose? It began, we think, in opposition to the Treaty of the Landing.”

“Two hundred years ago?”

“We think it was, at first,” Banichi said, “an organization within the newly formed Guild, a handful who were opposed to the surrender of land to humans. Originally they may have hoped to lay hands on stores of human weapons and simply to wipe every human off the earth. There were such groups in various places, and there was that sort of talk abroad. It did not happen, of course. No one found any such resource. Then, as we all know, the paidhiin were instituted. They were set up to be gatekeepers, to provide peaceful technology, not weapons. It is, perhaps, poetic, that you, of all officers of the court, have been such a personal inconvenience to the modern organization, Bren‑ji. The paidhiin were, from the first human to hold the office, the primary damper on such conspiracies.”

“One rather fears that I have become their greatest hope,” Bren said, feeling a leaden weight about his heart, “and a great convenience to them–in bringing atevi into space and putting the shuttles exclusively under atevi control . . . if their aim truly was to take the station.”

“No,” Jago said.

“In the station program, Bren‑ji,” Algini said, “you have linked atevi with humans, economically, politically–even socially. You are their worst enemy. You brought reality home to Shishoji, we firmly believe it. You negotiated the means to put humans and atevi into association, which his philosophy called impossible. You negotiated the agreement that put Geigi in control of weapons they are only just beginning to appreciate. The Shadow Guild planned, naively, to get into the atevi section, convince atevi living up there to wipe out all humans, overcome the armament of the station and the ship, and seize control of the world, using the station. This is, demonstrably, not going to happen. It would not have happened, even had Murini succeeded in getting teams onto the station. Shishoji knows, now, that amid all the technology the humans have given us, their most powerful weapons remain under the control of one incorruptible ateva, in the person of Lord Geigi. They could not succeed. Not on the station. Down here . . . Down here is another matter.” Algini glanced in Banichi’s direction. “I have asked myself, Nichi‑ji, whether we could have seen it coming, and I do not think we could. Shishoji found changes proliferating and the world changing faster than he could adapt. He found himself in danger of irrelevancy. But there was also unease, in ordinary people both wanting and opposing the space program, at a time when there was considerable doubt as to human intentions–especially given the interim paidhi.”

Yolanda Mercheson. A disaster, who had not been able to convert her linguistic study into an understanding of atevi. She had tried. But she had not gotten past her own distrust of Mospheirans, let alone atevi.

Jase , meanwhile, had been with the ship.

God. Twenty/twenty hindsight . . .

“Tabini‑aiji’s popularity was slipping. Lords were maneuvering to get a share of the new industry, even as public doubts arose regarding whether humans on earth or in the heavens had any intention of keeping their agreements. The conservatives and the traditionalists were gathering momentum in the aishidi’tat. And when a crisis came in the heavens, and it seemed humans might have lied to us, every pressure on the aijinate was redoubled. Tabini‑aiji escaped assassination, but his bodyguards were dead, his staff was dead, Taiben had suffered losses and the Atageini were too weak to help. His attempt to reach the Guild met a second attempt on his life, and within hours it was announced Tabini‑aiji was dead, that the majority of the shuttles had been grounded to protect the aishidi’tat from invasion from orbit–”

And Yolanda Mercheson had run for her life. He had heard the account before, but from a very different perspective.

“Within an hour of the announcement of Tabini’s death, six of the conservatives and the traditionalists declared man’chi to Murini,” Algini said. It was a set of facts they all knew. But Tano and Algini had seen it all play out.

Banichi and Jago had been with him, the dowager, Cajeiri–and Jase–on the starship, headed out to try to deal with the Reunion situation.

“We do not see now,” Algini said, “that this situation will repeat itself. We have not changed our recommendation to the aiji and we have removed the one vulnerability we think gave the aiji’s enemies access to his schedule and his apartment.”

“It is the aiji’s belief, Bren‑ji,” Tano said quietly, “that Damiri‑daja’s staff, knowingly or unknowingly, supplied information to the conspirators. Tabini‑aiji’s staff died. Certain of Damiri‑daja’s escaped.”

“And returning with Komaji,” Banichi said, “came Damiri’s aunt, her cousin, and her childhood nurse. The nurse, oldest in the consort’s service, stayed on when the others went back to Ajuri. When we recovered the records from the situation on the coast, and began to peel back the layers of the Shadow Guild, when we began to realize that Murini was more figurehead than aiji, and when Komaji had behaved as he had, we bypassed the aiji’s guard to advise Tabini‑aiji to discharge the consort’s staff and bodyguard immediately. We wanted them detained. Unfortunately–and we have not had a clear answer about the confusion in the order, they were simply dismissed.”

Damn.

“At the moment,” Algini said, “we have asked Tabini‑aiji to observe a restricted schedule, do business by phone and courier, and that he and Damiri‑daja stay entirely within the guard we have provided. The aiji has confidence in the consort’s man’chi. She was with him through his exile, her bodyguards were all assigned to her service–by the process you now understand–on their return from exile, and they were all Ajuri folk, as a particular favor to her. Afterward, the night of the reception for Lord Geigi, she told the aiji‑dowager that she was close to renouncing her connections with Ajuri.”

That walk about the reception all. And a private tea the next morning.

“She has also, under strong advisement from her husband, accepted staff from the aiji‑dowager.”

Advisement from Tabini.

“Assignments had a very close call with Komaji,” Algini went on. “He could take the dismissal as the aiji’s displeasure with his wife. He knows that Komaji did not get to the Atageini. He may believe he has averted that threat. We do not believe Shishoji would make an attempt on Tabini‑aiji at this point. His organization has been disrupted. We did, however, separate the heir from the household to compartmentalize our problems. We had a choice: to go to Malguri, which would better protect the heir, the aiji‑dowager, Tatiseigi, and these young guests–but which would have us remote, reliant on transcontinental communications which are extremely risky, and put us in a position where assets such as Tirnamardi could be peeled away from us or damaged, which we cannot allow. We decided to strengthen Tirnamardi, and at that point, we had to put our own plan into motion and be sure we could keep Tirnamardi safe. We decided to involve Lord Geigi, and see if he could assist with equipment which we are–one apologizes, nandi–not supposed to have. Not weapons, but communications methods independent of our Guild, and protective equipment.”

Apologize? He could only be thankful for his aishid’s foresight. Profoundly thankful.

“We did not expect nand’ Jase and his guards to arrive with the equipment,” Algini added, “but we accept the assistance. We do not expect a move against us yet. We think our opposition has made one necessary move, in stopping Lord Komaji. They are surely looking us over and finding out that Tirnamardi is no longer an easy mark. They are surely finding out that the Taibeni and the Atageini have made an alliance beyond a signature on a piece of paper. They are surely aware that the situation immediately surrounding the aiji has changed. They might naturally expect, given the foreign visitors, that there will be precautions taken and personnel shifted about, and of course we gave out that we are all at Malguri. How soon they penetrate that story will tell us something about their sources and their capabilities. We are unashamedly using the presence of our young guests to make those changes. And we hope our adversaries will believe that everything we are doing is just a temporary change and that things will go back to their former vulnerability, once the shuttle returns these children to space.”

After the official birthday celebration. Back in the Bujavid . . . with all the danger it might entail, including exposure to other Guild, who would have been put in place by Assignments.

“At that time,” Algini said, “there will be the option to send Cajeiri to the station with them. Temporarily. Possibly the aiji‑dowager as well. At that point–we will go after Haikuti, and we will go after Shishoji. There will be no Filing. We will otherwise observe the law. If you wish to go up to the station with the aiji‑dowager and the young gentleman, Bren‑ji, it will be safer, and we will be free to do what we must do.”

He took in a breath, instantly sure. “No. No, I will not leave you, nadiin‑ji. Where I have influence, where I have any authority, I shall use it in whatever manner you need, and if I am present in any situation, you are protecting me. What you do then–is legal.”

Banichi said, quietly, warmly, “We are not surprised, Bren‑ji. We only ask you keep your head down. Literally.”

God. So it was coming.

One hoped Tabini was right to trust Damiri. The coming operation, their lives, the security of the whole atevi world relied on that one emotional judgment.

But couldn’t he say, lacking the hardwiring to feel atevi emotions, and going solely on his human senses, that he trusted the four people who were telling him this?

When push came to shove, he bet everything on them. And had no doubts.

They’d just had, perhaps, a trial of Tatiseigi’s new security arrangement, this morning.

From inside, as it looked to be.

They’d chosen to be separate from the Bujavid–but to have as short a distance as possible to the spaceport; now he knew why that was; and as short a distance as possible between them and the capital–and Guild Headquarters. He’d been anticipating trouble from Komaji.

Scratch that, as of this morning.

“The Kadagidi,” he said. Murini’s clan. Tatiseigi’s next‑door neighbors. “This bodyguard of Lord Aseida’s. Haikuti. Is he the force we’re imminently worried about?”

“Yes,” Banichi said, from across the room. “He is a significant problem.”

Algini said, just a flick of the eyes toward Banichi, “Very significant. –Lord Tatiseigi, Bren‑ji, has been a somewhat special case in the matter of out‑clan assignments. He supports the rule. Officially. But he is very inclined to prefer Atageini Guild be assigned here to him–and he has occasionally, on personal privilege, put pressure on the Office of Assignments. Assignments never complained, you may be sure. Shishoji inserted a few Atageini with kinship to the Kadagidi–and beyond that, assigned some Atageini personnel who, frankly speaking, were not the caliber that a man in Tatiseigi’s position should have gotten. Conversely, where there has been extraordinary promise in an Atageini candidate who might have come in and identified these people, that person has been shifted to other service, and made unavailable to Tatiseigi’s house.”

And in just such a way, one at a time . . . or in this case in twos and fours . . . the balance of power throughout the aishidi’tat had been shifted–for forty‑two years. Forty‑two years of lethal man’chi being slipped into key positions. It wouldn’t even take special training or instructions, nothing that could be traced directly to some individual. A time bomb with a purely instinct‑driven trigger, right out of the machimi plays. Instincts that would, at some key instant, jump the wrong way. Silent. Nearly untraceable. Shadow Guild, indeed.

Algini continued: “Tatiseigi’s clan has bled talent into the system and consistently gotten back less. Rusani and his team, the senior bodyguards–are not much younger than Tatiseigi. They are too old to keep up with training in the way of younger men; and ironically, when we approached them, with Lord Tatiseigi’s permission, they were convinced the general quality of Guild training has sadly declined over the years. We cannot at this point tell them the truth of the situation, but we told them the aiji‑dowager herself would send them help. Tabini himself told Lord Tatiseigi that he must accept, for the safety of the aiji‑dowager and the heir. That is the situation. We have a few remaining of the old staff. And now we have to ask if we have somehow missed one. If we have, that individual may be desperate to try to get word to his control. And we are equally determined he should not get that word out, either who is here, or how we are configured. Alternatively, we may have a source of information we can lay hands on.”

“If he uses communications equipment, we will be on him in an instant,” Tano said. “Otherwise, he will have to make a run for it. And getting across the grounds and through the hedges is no small difficulty. He is trapped. Whoever he is.”

“Kadagidi would be the logical direction,” Bren murmured.

“We are watching all directions,” Jago said, “by every means.”

They would find this–hopefully last–infiltrator, he had every confidence. With luck, they’d take him alive and have a chance to extract information. And then, or at least very soon thereafter, they were going to try to fix what was broken.

Forty‑two years of problems in the Guild.

That dated from before his predecessor, Wilson, had been paidhi‑aiji. It dated from the time of Tabini’s grandfather.

From before there was anyone living on the space station. From before there had been significant human technology in atevi hands, and from before there was any real flow of communication between Mospheira and the mainland. An old movement, an old resistance to human influence . . . had shifted course radically–with this wild notion of moving into the space station.

Not technophobes, however. The old man sitting in that office had declined computers, which would have opened up his records, a locator bracelet, which would have told other Guild where he was.

But he was seeking control of the highest powered technology available.

While Murini had put himself forward as opposing human influence, opposing the changes in atevi society, opposing the factories and the space program, to get Conservative Party support–until his assassination and intimidation tactics had crossed a line and people realized this was not the government they wanted.

Not a repudiation of the space program and human influence. A takeover . . . using that technology.

And the one way, the one way they could have inserted their people into the station was to get Geigi off it. Off it and, preferably, out of the picture completely.

No wonder the Shadow Guild had been setting up a trap for Lord Geigi, hoping he’d find reason to visit his estate at Kajiminda. They’d hijacked Machigi’s original plot to get his hands on Geigi’s estate. They’d taken over the operation and come scarily close to succeeding in delivering a major blow to Tabini’s year‑old second administration.

Until they’d crossed the aiji‑dowager.

Geigi had come down from the heavens, however–

And then of all things the Shadow Guild had taken to the field and decided to throw mortars at Najida.

“A question,” he said. “Nadiin‑ji. Why did the Shadow Guild take it to the field? Why did they blow the cover off?”

“That,” Algini said, “is an interesting question. And a sad situation. The ones most exposed fled south and to the coast when Murini fell. They began recruitment of Marid Guild, whose man’chi was to the region, with a lie: they told these people that the out‑clan rule was going to be imposed by northern Guild, who would isolate them and impose northern lords over the Marid. The lie was too potent. The Marid recruits slipped control, they took to the field, and they were not coordinated. The action now has evolved to words and reasoned argument, where possible–and the skirmishes that do take place now are with those we have no reluctance to take down. Cenedi has had experience in the East. He asked Machigi for names from the Taisigin Marid, called respected persons out of retirement, and set them in positions in the Marid where their influence can be useful. The opposition is feeling more threatened by these influential seniors than by weapons, and local Guild is becoming aware that Murini’s people are, principally, outsiders to the Marid. The remnant of our enemy is resorting once again to Murini’s tactics of intimidation and threats, and they continue to spread the rumors, primarily in the more rural areas, that the out‑clan rule is coming and the aiji means to take over the Marid–which is still a rallying cry for the misled. It is a district by district struggle, in a region where the Messengers’ Guild does not operate, where there is no television, and radio is often short range and delivering disinformation. We have taken to distributing radios, and broadcasting our own message.”

Communication. A world perspective. Messengers’ Guild. Scholars’ Guild. Get those throughout the Marid and misinformation and truth could at least fight on a level field.

“Ironically, in the past, Assignments has not had the ability to deal with the Marid as well as it has in the north, but that situation is changing. The local Guild has taken a beating they are being told was the fault of their leaders. Machigi–is regarded with great suspicion in the northern Marid.”

One very much hoped that the next word would not be that Machigi himself was one of their problems.

“Whatever Machigi has been,” Banichi said, “he probably still is–but right now his best chance of survival is as a lord in Tabini‑aiji’s man’chi, and by assuring everybody goes over to the out‑clan rule. Assignments, we are quite sure, is already lining up candidates to be installed the moment the aiji and Machigi agree on that move.”

“If Shishoji were removed,” Bren said, “would that settle it?”

A look flew between Banichi and Algini, Jago and Banichi. Tano just looked worried.

“It would not,” Bren concluded.

“We have a choice of targets,” Algini said, “but there are several what you call loose ends we must deal with before we can move–before we should , prudently, move–on Shishoji himself. And we are not sure–” Again the glance toward Banichi. “–who actually has the man’chi within that structure. We are of several opinions.”

“But it is between Haikuti, and Shishoji?”

A quick dip of the chin. “Haikuti has not the evident seniority or the authority Shishoji has,” Algini said. “He is a tactician. He was running Murini from his position as his cousin’s bodyguard. Cenedi believes his letting Murini do as much bloodletting as he wished was cold‑blooded policy–and that once the enemies had been eliminated, Murini would die, and Aseida would step in with clean hands and a new policy the aishidi’tat would be glad to accept.”

“Haikuti let Murini go as far as he did,” Banichi said, “because he was likely selecting Murini’s targets. He is a tactician who does not mind bloodshed, so long as it is not his own. Shishoji has no field experience. He is, perhaps, the philosopher of the Shadow Guild, but he is a numbers man that arranges teams. He analyzes people. He is the one we need to get. He is the architect. Haikuti– No. He is what someone will use. He is not the intellectual master of this organization.”

There was a small silence. “I agree with you,” Algini said.

Tano said, “Nandi. Nadiin‑ji. The aiji‑dowager has just ordered Cenedi to a conference with the young gentleman. She has asked Jase‑aiji to remain with the guests. This will be a briefing, similar to the one we have just held.”

While they had an intrusion alarm still unaccounted for–the highest level of Guild present had decided briefing him, and now the heir, had priority. Presumably what Cajeiri learned would include names. And warnings.

So that, whatever happened, in any confusion that might break here, the young gentleman would have some idea who his allies were–and who his enemies were.

One, Haikuti, was right over the hill.

Another–depending on what the dowager decided–might be Damiri.

God. He hoped– hoped the boy didn’t have to hear that.

· · ·

Cajeiri was not happy with the situation, with Boji loose outside, and hostile strangers somewhere about–strangers desperate enough to try the borders of Great‑uncle’s estate.

Perhaps they had no idea Great‑uncle had come home. But there had been a lot of noise and dust at the train station, and along the road. It was hard not to be noticed, if there had been anybody paying attention.

If they were prowling around because they knew who Great‑uncle’s guests were, they were stupid, and bad things could happen, and if people started shooting he was going to be really mad.

But he could not be scowling and making his guests worried. They had had the alarm. They had been escorted upstairs. Then they had Jase‑aiji with them–Jase‑aiji was sitting in a chair, commiserating with them about Boji escaping, being pleasant otherwise, and casual. But Kaplan and Polano had come in not too long after, and sat over across the room, wearing sidearms, which of course his own bodyguard did, too–but it was just not that usual with the ship‑folk. He knew it. His aishid didn’t. But his guests had certainly given their presence an uneasy look.

Now Antaro and Jegari had come in from the hall–Lucasi and Veijico were already with them, over near the window, keeping a watch there; and straightway Antaro went over to Jase and Jegari came to him.

“Your great‑grandmother’s bodyguard’s word, nandi. She wishes you to go to the sitting room.”

Him. Only him. In Ragi it was perfectly clear.

“Why?” he asked. “Is my father all right?”

“As far as we know,” Jegari said, “everyone is safe.” He added, “One of the house staff says she saw Boji, nandi, right when I was outside. I could not see him, but she says he was up on the haystacks. And there is water in the mecheiti troughs. There is every good chance he will stay where he is. We cannot go out there during the security alert. But we may be able to lure him down if he gets hungry.”

“If a mecheita does not step on him,” Cajeiri said, rising to his feet. “Nadiin‑ji,” he began, then decided on ship‑speak. “Mani wants me,” he said to his guests. “I have to go. Back real soon.”

“Nandi,” Gene said and got up and gave a proper little bow, much more than he really was obliged to do, but the others did, too, and Jase nodded.

Jegari was with him. Antaro joined him. Lucasi and Veijico looked at him and he thought if there was anything mani had to tell him it could well be about Grandfather, and that was Guild business. It would be a good idea for his entire aishid to go. He gave a nod to them, they fell in and they were not the only ones out in the hall. Nand’ Bren and his aishid were headed down the stairs, and his aishid, Antaro and Jegari foremost, headed downstairs right after them.

Not a question of going down to mani’s suite, down the hall, then, but downstairs, onto the main floor. He quickened his pace, and arrived at the door of the sitting room not far behind nand’ Bren and his bodyguard. It was Banichi and Jago who took up guard outside, and Tano and Algini who went inside with nand’ Bren, which was unusual in itself.

It made him think fast about his own aishid: Jegari and Antaro were seniormost in his household, and they knew the Padi Valley up and down; but Veijico and Lucasi were senior in Guild rank, and he reversed the usual order of his bodyguard, too, said, “Taro‑ji, Gari‑ji, take the door,” straightened his coat, and went in with Lucasi and Veijico.

Mani was there, no question. So was Great‑uncle. And nand’ Bren. And he was the last piece, he decided. He paid a quiet to bow to mani and to Uncle, and a lesser one to nand’ Bren, and picked the chair beside him.

There was tea. So it was not an outright emergency and nobody else was dead. He took a cup that the servant offered him, and they all sat and sipped tea awhile, until he was not breathing hard, and his heart had settled. And he was being included with the adults. That was something. Things were serious, but they called him to tell him what was going on. He was a few days short of felicitous nine, and he was being taken seriously, more than ever in his life.

So he put on his best manners, and drank at the rate everybody else did, and when mani set her cup down, he set his down, finished or not; and everybody else did.

Then Great‑uncle said something very unusual. He said, “Only bodyguards may remain. Clear the room, nadiin‑ji.”

The servants left, all of them.

“Paidhi,” Great‑grandmother said, “for convenience of language and accuracy, we leave Jase‑aiji to wait for your briefing. You may relay to him the nature and content of what we say–be somewhat sparing of detail internal to the Guild. You have been briefed already by your aishid.”

Nand’ Bren said, “Yes, aiji‑ma.”

“Well,” Great‑grandmother said, “Great‑grandson.”

“Mani.” If he were littler he would have stood up at that tone. He was nearly nine, and twitched, but he stayed seated, and only gave a polite nod.

“You know that your grandfather was one reason for the security surrounding your birthday celebration. You know that since this morning he is no longer at issue.”

“Yes, mani.”

“You also know that your great‑uncle, while he has reached agreement with his neighbors to the west, has not been at peace with his neighbors to the east.”

“The Kadagidi, mani. My father banned Lord Aseida. He is Murini’s cousin.”

“There is another man of that clan,” mani said, “who is more worrisome than the lord of the Kadagidi. Lord Aseida’s chief bodyguard, Haikuti. Pay attention, and I shall tell you a little story about this Haikuti.”

“Mani.”

“He was born Kadagidi, he trained in the Guild. He and his team reentered Kadagidi service some five years before the Troubles–Aseida’s bodyguard, which had been with him from his youth, had been removed.”

That was a scary thought. Bodyguards did not get removed.

“They were reassigned to a Dojisigi house. We would like to know more about their current whereabouts. Murini was in the Dojisigin Marid–more than once–prior to his attack on your father. Aseida stayed at home. He was a student. He and several others of the Kadagidi youth were frequently in the Kadagidi township, frequently drunk, frequently a difficulty for the town Council, and an ongoing expense for his father, who died under questionable circumstances.”

That meant–possibly he was assassinated.

“Kadagidi of various houses have been a nuisance for years, quarreling with your great‑uncle over land–several times with your father over complaints from their neighbors. They have five townships, seventeen villages, and they dispute the possession of a hunting range with the Atageini. They have overhunted. They have founded one village without license, and attempted to attach it to the disputed range. They have a sizeable vote in the hasdrawad and they have weight in the tashrid when they are not banned from court, which has happened three times in my own memory. They have connections in the Dojisigin Marid, and of course–they are Murini’s clan. Exactly. They are one of the five original signers of the association of the aishidi’tat, and a permanent ban would be politically difficult–not to mention a disenfranchisement of a large number of farmers and tradesmen who have committed no fault but to be born to a clan whose ruling house has multiplied in numbers and declined in all social usefulness.” Mani’s voice was clipped and angry. “Which adequately describes that nest. Murini had some intelligence. He made contacts in the Marid–made a marriage with Dojisigi clan, another nest of trouble–which formed an alliance that greatly worried his neighbors and any other person of sense. All this while, Aseida and his fellows were living their useless lives, showing no enterprise in the things they should have been doing. Staff saved them. Things were done, efficiently and well–give or take a little dispute with your great‑uncle.”

Great‑uncle looked angry just thinking about it.

“Murini came in. Things changed–one would have said, for the better, if one were a town official needing action. The staff grew larger. Aseida and his useless associates no longer came to the township. Security tightened. Murini, back and forth between the Padi Valley and the Marid, was planning the coup. When your father was overthrown by conspiracy, and nearly killed, Murini left the Kadagidi estate and established himself in Shejidan–never surrendering his lordship over the Kadagidi, but not devoting much attention to it, either. When we drove Murini and his lot out–the ruling house of the Kadagidi clan was nearly wiped out. But not all. This obscure man, this useless man, Aseida, turned up in the Kadagidi lordship, writing numerous apologies to your father for the actions of his cousin. Your father is not deceived about his quality, and has not forgiven the clan.”

“Nor have I,” Great‑uncle said.

“Yet,” Great‑grandmother said, “Aseida is lord. And Kadagidi is rebuilding. It is not Aseida who is so industrious. It is his bodyguard and his staff.”

“Haikuti,” Cajeiri said.

“He was never part of the coup. He was never attached to Murini. Yet–things run exactly as they did when Murini was alive. The same rules. The same policies. One might say the Kadagidi were merely doing what worked well–but we suspect that the difference in Murini’s administering Kadagidi lands and his behavior in Shejidan is this man. And you would say that he is doing no harm, governing Kadagidi from behind Aseida’s shoulder. But we have a little more information of this man’s connections now, and this is the last man your father should admit to court.”

He thought he followed that. He was not sure. But under the circumstances, only one thing really mattered: “Shadow Guild?”

“Definitely,” mani said. “Definitely.”

Cenedi, standing to the side, said: “There was a strategist behind the coup, and we do not believe that that strategist was Murini, or even one of Murini’s bodyguard. We are now watching the contacts between Kadagidi and the outside, by means that we do not think the Kadagidi have. Your grandfather’s assassination provoked an interesting flow this morning.”

“ Kadagidi did it?” That was a lot better than learning his mother had done it. But it was not good news about Uncle’s neighbors.

“Possibly.” Cenedi walked forward a step. “Nand’ paidhi.”

“Nadi?” nand’ Bren said.

“You were briefed, nandi, concerning the Ajuri officer in the Guild.”

“Yes,” nand’ Bren said, and Cajeiri took in his breath, resolved not to interrupt. One learned nothing by stopping people. But he had to know–

“Cenedi‑nadi. Who?”

“There is an old man, Ajuri, your very remote elder cousin, a high officer in the Guild,” Cenedi said, “who may have wanted your grandfather silenced–regarding the relationship of Ajuri clan to the Shadow Guild. You are not to discuss this, on your great‑grandmother’s order, young gentleman. This is what you urgently need to know–and your aishid needs to know; but none of your guests. This man, Shishoji, or Haikuti, who would not want Shishoji exposed, sent the assassins.”

“This knowledge is worth lives,” mani said. “Believe it, Great‑grandson.”

“Shishoji‑nadi has held his office,” Cenedi said, “for forty‑two years. He has worked in secret–placing his people in various houses. We believe that some of these were on your mother’s staff, young gentleman.”

His heart beat hard. He knew these people. He had passed them in the hall. He had slept with them outside his door.

“Does my father know?”

“Yes,” mani said.

He never expected to be told the whole truth–he never was–but it seemed likely he was hearing it now.

The air in the room seemed heavy. His heart was beating unbearably.

“Understand this, Great‑grandson. This man, this Ajuri, is the stone on the bottom of the stream. He is a constant, and events flow around him. You do not see what makes the turbulence, but once you study the patterns, you can begin to see that there is a certain rock that makes it flow that way. That is how we have detected him. His agents, we suspect, have deliberately kept certain quarrels going–your great‑uncle and I have discussed that matter.”

Great‑uncle cleared his throat. “We have completely revised our security.”

“The alarm,” he said. “Did you catch anyone, Great‑uncle?”

“Not yet,” mani said. “But we are looking. Quietly. Meanwhile I rely on you to stay indoors, devise clever entertainments for your guests, and think. Think about your safety, do not be in a window once it gets dark, and take care your guests do not. You are in less danger than you would be anywhere else in the world, but only if you obey instructions and do not take chances.”

“Boji got away out the window,” he said. “I am very sorry, mani. We had no idea there was any problem and I wanted to find him. We came right back.”

“Ha.” Mani seemed even amused. “Your little Boji had doors opened, people running out to the stable–possibly it startled someone into a mistake. Perhaps we must thank Boji. We shall keep him in mind, if we have anyone out searching. We shall catch him for you if we can.”

“He likes eggs, mani.”

“I am sure he does. Go back to your guests, Great‑grandson. Keep them contained. And do not venture out to catch Boji tonight. We are on a completely different set of priorities than we have admitted to the world. This is no time for a mistake. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mani,” he managed to say.

He got up. He made his bows. He left with a racing heart and an upset stomach, thinking: So Mother did not do it.

But what did my grandfather have to do with the Shadow Guild?

· · ·

There was a lengthy pause after the young gentleman had left. Bren waited, sensing it was not a general dismissal.

“In our opinion,” Ilisidi said, “we doubt Lord Komaji suffered a moral change that brought him to his end. It seems likely that he wa s attempting to escape his situation. Considering the man, we suspect his strange behavior in the Bujavid was complete panic. He was carrying far too much knowledge. My grandson and his wife–and, more importantly, her bodyguards–were not in the apartment at the time he attempted to get in. I think he wanted to talk to Cajeiri, to enlist him to reach my grandson, with the hope of meeting my grandson with Cajeiri to stand in front of him–as he exposed Damiri‑daja’s staff and everything else he knew. He was in a truly desperate situation–he had excellent reason not to trust his own bodyguards. Being rebuffed at the door–he slipped into total, unreasoning panic. He blamed us for creating it. He sought a public place as the place least likely his own bodyguards would choose to kill him–and quite, quite broke down. The poor man had no knowledge how to survive without a staff–he probably had no idea how to walk out the door, down the hill, and buy a train ticket.”

“Who carries money?” Tatiseigi asked. It was true. Lords didn’t. Staff did.

Ilisidi gave a short, ironic laugh. “I have found,” she said, “that a piece of jewelry serves.” The smile vanished. “Damiri‑daja had no wish to see him again. Nor to commit herself to Ajuri.”

“She has an uncle.”

“That she does, Tati‑ji.”

“You do not think, aiji‑ma,” Tatiseigi said, “that she in any wise has contact with this old man, this Shishoji.”

“No,” Ilisidi said, and moved her cane to lean on it, as she would when she had something more to say, of a serious nature. “She said herself that she had refused to visit Ajuri, that they would have been happy to have her daughter born there, and she would not consider it. That did not please Komaji in the least. She pleaded her condition. And the distance. She did not want to fly. Excuses. But, Tati‑ji, she carries very unhappy memories–no few unhappy memories. She is sensitive on the matter. Born here. Sent there. Back here. A long sequence of going there and here, all with the single question–whether she should ever have been born.”

“One never implied such a thing!” Tatiseigi said.

“She heard it somewhere: ‘The child of an unlucky alliance.’ Only she knows what remark, from whatever source, instilled that impression in her. I had it straight from her. This I have from my grandson: her father showing up in my grandson’s return–his having the lordship of Ajuri and courting her with such devotion–waked man’chi in her that quite upset her, and worried her. And with that man’chi still unsettled, came the incident that sent her father from court and removed her staff. She was quite, quite shaken. It took courage for her to wear the Atageini colors that evening, Tati‑ji. Great courage. But it was her choice. I told her that evening that I appreciated the situation she was in. That I knew it took courage. That I understood her hesitation at acknowledging man’chi to either clan. I recalled my marriage as an Easterner, coming to reside in a Ragi household. I told her when she was my age, she might find value in the position of outsider, and mother of the heir–but, I said, that power had to come from staff with good connections, and allies on whom one could call without doubt. She had made one step in that direction on her own. I offered another. I pointed out that she might gain you, Tati‑ji, and me, and various others who are her son’s most important allies. That in him is the source of power for her one day to stand where I do, doing as I do. That is what I said to her. She was not pleased to hear all of it. But her subsequent choices have, indeed, been better choices. She is sitting in my grandson’s residence with Malguri and Taibeni security, and she is still alive. She is much too intelligent to go to Ajuri. One may only imagine how eager this Shishoji would be to have her open Ajuri records to my grandson’s inspection.”

One could only imagine, Bren thought.

“She is,” Tatiseigi said, “a part of this household. As is the young gentleman. No one will ever again utter any word to the contrary. Never under this roof!”

“A good resolve,” Ilisidi said, and called for more tea. “We shall think on these things. We shall let Guild solve the problems.” Which had a more ominous ring than usual. “And we shall enjoy the evening, shall we not, Tati‑ji?”

“We shall by no means alter plans within this house,” Tatiseigi said. “Perhaps we shall find this new‑fangled thing on my roof has simply had a malfunction. We shall enjoy our dinner, though I fear we have had to cancel the choir. And if the Guild insists this fancy equipment cannot fail, well, we cannot ride. We shall entertain the children with a tour of the premises tomorrow. I shall show them my collections.”

The collections were famous–though Bren had never seen them. And one could not imagine the old lord entertaining a flock of children all day with case after case of tea services.

“The other collections, Tati‑ji,” Ilisidi said. “The taxidermy should interest strangers to the world. They will not have seen those creatures.”

Taxidermy. He was curious himself, what might be there. Great houses threw nothing away.

Tatiseigi nodded, and gave a rare little laugh. “We should send them in by lamplight. That is how I remember them, from my youth. Fangs and claws appearing out of the darkness. We promise it for tomorrow, since the basement knows neither day nor night, rain nor sun. We would wish them to sleep tonight.” He accepted a teacup, after which only small conversation was mannerly. “And just as well we shall not be riding tomorrow. Likeliest we shall all be limping about. I know I shall.”

“It is ridiculous that we should ache,” Ilisidi said. “We have gotten soft, Tati‑ji. And we resent every ache. Paidhi‑ji, be glad of your youth, and know what you have ahead.”

“One regrets to say, aiji‑ma, that one does feel it.”

Ilisidi’s expression lightened. She liked to be flattered, if the flattery was subtle. So did Tatiseigi.

Tea continued, and the house remained quiet, except the servants hurrying about their preparations–and except, one was certain, the unheard transactions of the Guild, those in communication with the Taibeni units, and those in communication with others about the grounds, where it was not tea service and light conversation. The best the lords involved could do in that matter was to stay out of the way. The answer to the alarm was not being obvious.

“We shall rest before dinner,” Ilisidi said, after a single cup. “Perhaps have a nap.”

With that, their little conference adjourned, and they got up, bowed, and gathered up their separate guards.

Banichi and Jago joined them outside.

“The Taibeni have found sign, but they dare not bring the mecheiti in close to Tatiseigi’s herd,” Banichi said quietly. “One of Tatiseigi’s grooms is bringing the herd‑leader over to see what he picks up and where it came from. There is however, a very faint trace of old sign, from before the rain. The direction of approach was from the Kadagidi perimeter.”

“One is not that surprised. Is there any guess how old?”

“Difficult,” Jago said. “They think possibly before the new equipment went in. Four days ago.”

“One of the Taibeni,” Banichi said, “has made a search of the stables, to see if he could locate the young gentleman’s parid’ja, or anything else, but if it is there, it is hiding.”

“A good thought, at least,” Bren said, and as they started up the stairs: “We are given leave to brief Jase on our situation, not the details inside the Guild.”

That, by the fact of language, was his to do.

“He is back in his quarters,” Tano said, and added: “And Cajeiri and his guests are sitting in theirs and talking. We have been given a lower level of alert. That could change at any moment.”

And that . . . was the least surprising news of the entire day.

· · ·

“Understand,” he said to Jase, “that we are in a relatively safe position. There’s no danger to this house at the moment, and we are very sure of the people around us. What has changed today is a security alert, and traces of a Kadagidi intrusion here some days ago. And the fact that Cajeiri’s grandfather apparently reached the end of a relative’s patience–not a family quarrel. Guild politics; and connected to this lot that arranged the coup, and that we’ve been trying to track down for the last year. Apparently Cajeiri’s grandfather talked too much about another member of that clan. The short version of it all is–there’s this old man in the Guild who’s sat there for forty years, Ajuri clan. He’s used a minor post to stack the deck in various clans, putting less able Guild into certain positions, shunting some to other duties–weakening his enemies, strengthening his allies, and possibly inserting spies here and there. We believe that’s how the coup was organized, and how the trouble has kept coming back. We’ve got our eye on him. We’re going to take care of him. We don’t want to do it until the boy’s had his party and the guests are home safe. Politics, again. We can’t let this fellow dictate what we dare and daren’t do. More immediate to the alarm situation, and what has us just a little worried, we’ve also had our eye on one other man, who’s running security over to the east, in Kadagidi clan’s manor house. And I swear to you, we hadn’t planned to have an assassination in Ajuri clan happen while we had the kids here.”

“You say we’re safe here.”

What did he say? That Cenedi was, hand over fist, setting up for conflict within the Guild, that the dowager had ignored Assignments and Guild procedure, and fortified both Tabini‑aiji and Cajeiri–separately– preparing for enemy attack?

If the old man in Assignments didn’t get a clue that it was check and damned near mate, he wasn’t as smart as they thought he was.

“We think we’re safe because we’ve taken measures to be safe, but if all hell breaks loose, we think it’s still going to be reasonably quiet hell this time, and we think we can take care of it.”

Jase thought about that a moment, then said, “Well, we told the parents that assassination goes on down here, that it’s specific, and it doesn’t take out bystanders. And we didn’t dwell on the point that, when it happens, the whole political picture can shift.”

“Exactly. Understand that aiming at the kids would be way outside civilized rules. Shooting Cajeiri–maybe. Me or our host, again–permissible. But don’t rely on civilized rules with this enemy. Public opinion hasn’t stopped them. They want the public terrified.”

Jase nodded. “Understood.”

“One opinion they do fear–is Lord Geigi. They now know they’d be small burned spots if Geigi lands one of his machines in their district. That word has gotten around, and nobody wants another of those machines to wake up. Everything in their eyes is politics–and they think the one he did turn on was purely a demonstration of what he can do.”

“Not far wrong on that score,” Jase said. “I have the picture.”

“These are a type you and I know. From your first visit. If you want my opinion–it’s the same lot. Deep connections. But we’re getting close to the heart of their operation. I am, frankly, very glad you’re here.”

“What are friends for? I’ll explain the situation to the kids, without scaring them. They haven’t caught that noisy little creature, have they?”

“They haven’t. They probably won’t. They’re arboreal. They go for the deep woods. And there’s a small woods between us and the Kadagidi, and a very big one, well, you saw the area around the train station. Taiben, forest from one end to the other, very friendly territory for that little creature. I’m afraid he’s lost his pet.”

“Too bad,” Jase said. “Interesting little creature. But if we can have our holiday without a shooting war–ideally without the kids or their parents ever noticing there’s been a problem during their visit, well, except the grandfather–I won’t explain it to them. Briefing Geigi and the captains, yes.”

“Definitely,” Bren said.

· · ·

There was supper, an uncommonly very fine supper. The cook was doing his best, given the young gentleman’s grandfather dying, his disappointment at being restricted from his birthday gift, and his having lost his parid’ja into the bargain. Do him credit, the boy had been bearing up with a determination that Bren feared even to compliment, for fear the boy would dissolve on the spot. He was bearing up on a sheer charge of nervous energy–that downhill rush that could spin into disaster if one began to notice anything but the obstacles. Dodge, dodge, and dodge. Keep going. Smile. Keep his guests from upset. Bren knew that state of mind. Knew the effort it took the boy to laugh when the others did.

Did the guests pick it up? Bren had a slight suspicion they did–and they had had warnings up and down the line to avoid any emotional upset with atevi. They were surrounded by strangeness, they were fed unfamiliar things, and there were signs all around them that there might be dangers, that their atevi hosts were trying to keep it from them, and that Cajeiri’s grandfather was not only dead, not of natural causes, but nobody was acting in the least sorry about it. He had no complete knowledge of what Jase had told them when he talked to them, but they were getting a quick lesson on what upset atevi looked like, and they were doing their best to eat what was put in front of them and get it down their throats no matter what it tasted like.

“Nadi,” Bren said to one of the servants, the one bearing the bitter‑spiced eggs, and ladling two onto his plate, “the human children will find this too strong for them and will be embarrassed. Kindly pass by them.”

“Nandi,” the servant said, going on his way, and Bren managed one egg, with a healthy dose of sweet relish.

There was nothing but pleasant talk. Cajeiri and Jase translated for the guests their elders’ assurances the weather would stay fair, assurances that Cajeiri’s mecheita would be stabled here quite happily and would always be available for him–and Tatiseigi’s personal regrets for the inconvenience of the change in schedule.

The attempt to have the herd‑leader locate their problem had not gone well–or given them any reassurance it had been a stray leaf or an electrical malfunction. Someone had strewn a massive amount of deterrent in the area. The mecheita had gotten a nose full of it, shied off, and they had just had to let him run it out–which had taken him much too close to the Taibeni camp at the eastern end of the estate. If he had not had his sense of smell disrupted, and if the wind had been blowing in the other direction, they would have had a serious problem. They had warned the Taibeni–but riders had also gone out from Tatiseigi’s stable and found him in time to get him calmed down. They were back in the stable, the grooms had treated the poor fellow with vapors and an abundance of water, and Tatiseigi was both irate, and now convinced it was a Kadagidi spy, equipped with the noxious weed, and somewhere on his premises.

The children had seen some of the goings‑on from their window. They had sent Veijico down to find out what was going on. House security had informed Veijico. Veijico had doubtless told her team, and told Cajeiri what was going on. Whether Cajeiri had then told the real story to his guests–one was not sure. But they had their door locked and that young aishid was doing everything by the book . . . a very good thing, in Bren’s opinion.

Tatiseigi signaled a desire for attention, and declared that there would be a treat tomorrow in place of the canceled ride. A tour of the basement collections.

It was, after a long and trying day, a complete puzzlement to the youngsters–Cajeiri and the human children looked equally as if they had missed a translation.

Tatiseigi said, “You shall see, you shall see,” and was amused.

“You will enjoy it, Great‑grandson,” Ilisidi said, preserving the mystery, and young spirits visibly lifted. A mystery. A treat. And Tatiseigi, God save them, was going to take the youngsters in charge.

Dessert arrived. Between a mystery and an abundance of sugar, the human youngsters’ spirits rose. The guests were happy . . . and Cajeiri had a second helping of cake.

15

The bitter‑spiced eggs had been a mistake. Cajeiri decided he never wanted another one.

He was exhausted. But he had had enough sugar his nerves were wound tight. Everyone was in that state: Lieidi and Eisi had had their supper in the room, and Antaro and Jegari were down in the dining room, having theirs, along with Banichi and Jago and Cenedi and Nawari and Tatiseigi’s senior bodyguard, Rusani, and the rest.

There was every chance they were going to find out something of what was going on. He had heard about the powder, and the herd‑leader nearly running up on the Taibeni camp. That was nasty–and it was mean, and it was a very good thing nobody had been outside that camp right then. There had been two searchers out in the little woods, and at least they could climb a tree, but that was just scary, what could have happened.

And some of the Taibeni were Antaro’s and Jegari’s cousins. They were not pleased with the trick, either.

“If my cousins lay hands on that fellow,” Jegari had said, “they will give him a dose of his black powder.”

He and his aishid agreed.

“It is certain,” Veijico told them then, “that there is someone here up to no good. And it seems that person is still here. He tried to get out, then realized he had set off the alarm, and went back into his hole.”

“Maybe,” Jegari said in a hushed voice, “he is in the basement.”

That was the scariest thing anyone had said yet. Great‑uncle was going to take them on a tour of his basement, for a surprise. But if some Kadagidi assassin was hiding down there in the dark–

“Maybe you should tell them to search the basement, nadiin‑ji,” Cajeiri said.

“One is sure they are searching it,” Lucasi said. “But we will mention it.”

Meanwhile, Cajeiri thought, he just had to take deep breaths and think of things to do so his guests had a good time and did not get bored. And he hoped the basement was better than it sounded. Mani had thought so.

Meanwhile–meanwhile, of all things, Artur had come up with a pocket full of rocks, and provided his own entertainment, laying his treasures out for everybody to see.

“Where did you find those?” Cajeiri asked. On a day when they were all pent in with a security alert, he knew where his guests had been, and surprises were not a good thing, today.

“The stables. Where we walked.”

Artur had been hindmost, going out the door, and Cajeiri recalled indeed, it was a gravel walk–a lot of places had gravel, or flagstones. And Tirnamardi had gravel all along by the stables.

There was a sandstone, a quartz, and a basalt one–“That one I got at the train station,” Artur said. “This one in the front of the house.” That was the pink quartz.

“You can almost see through it,” Irene said, admiring it against the light. “Those are so great!”

Artur had been collecting them all along. None of his guests were used to walking on rocks, or dirt. And trust Artur to do something unusual.

So now that Artur tallied up his collection, all very small ones, he used what he had learned from his tutor to tell everybody what they were, and how they had formed, and even where they came from. They were river‑rounded. And it was very likely they had been under a glacier once.

Everybody was impressed with what he knew. And he did not have his big map, but he drew one for them in Irene’s notebook, a map of the Padi Valley, and he showed them where they were, and the river where probably the rocks had come from–he had never been there, himself, but he knew about it.

And the idea that water and wind could smooth them into eggs, and how mountains formed and wore away, and how volcanoes happened, down near the Marid, and down in the islands in the Great Southern Ocean–all of that was wonderful to them. They knew about magnetic fields, and about dustball asteroids, and interesting things up in space. They said Maudit had volcanoes, a lot of them, but not much water.

“If we have to live there,” Irene said, “we’ll really live in another space station, in orbit, but it won’t be very nice as the station here is. Nothing will be.” Irene frowned and rested her chin on her hand. “I don’t want to live on Maudit Station. I don’t.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m not supposed to get upset. Sorry.”

He did not want Irene to live on Maudit Station either. Not any of them. And he did not want to think about anything else sad or upsetting today, he truly did not. He was very glad Irene was getting the better of her upset. Everybody had gone quiet.

“Right,” Irene said in a moment, and picked up the smoothest of Artur’s collection. “It’s like a little world, isn’t it? In space, rocks can’t smooth out and be round until they’re huge. And here’s this little round rock that spent hundreds of years in running water, and it’s just lying there on the ground this morning for Artur to find it. That’s something.”

“I can bring this back with me,” Artur said, then explained. “No animals, no biologicals, like seeds or anything. Everything has to be processed. They’re not going to argue about rocks. But there’s so much, like almost everything we touch. Everywhere I look–there’s things that are just–random. Shaped however they want to be.”

“Most things,” Cajeiri said. He remembered, how everything about the ship was made by machines, smooth, shiny, or plastic. He thought of his own room, where he had gathered living plants, and pictures and weaving, and carvings of animals on every chair and table . . . he knew what Artur meant by random. It was a good word. He had been on the ship two years and found himself wanting windows, wanting the open sky and the smell of plants and curves on everything his eyes touched. And he had told his associates how the world was and promised them they would see it. They had fourteen days. That was all they had, until–until–he had no idea. He had not mentioned his next birthday yet, and they were talking about being sent to Maudit, which none of them wanted to happen.

And now some stupid Kadagidi had gotten into the house and Boji was gone . . .

He was not going to give up on Boji. And the guards were going to catch that Kadagidi who had pulled that nasty trick with the black powder.

And he knew beyond any doubt that his guests were enjoying everything they saw. Even pebbles on the ground were treasures to them. They had pills to take because the sky would make them sick–but Gene said he hadn’t needed them today; and Irene said she wanted not to need them, and then Artur said the same thing–Artur said looking toward the horizon was like looking down the core‑corridor: scary, because the place could look like the edge of the world one moment and a pit, the next.

But he had seen the core‑corridor on the ship. He had been there, in a suit too big for him, and floated in air. He had looked right down it, which was the scariest place he had ever been.

And maybe, for them, having dared each other to look down the core, where gravity just didn’t exist, it had made them ready to look at the sky.

They were all brave. He knew that. Irene had been scared of the mecheiti, but now she said she wanted to ride again, even if she was limping tonight–poor Irene was the skinniest of them, all bones and pale skin, and she looked even skinnier when she was wearing her stretchy clothes. The saddle and Irene’s bones had been very close together this morning.

But she tried. Artur collected the rocks that pleased him–and Gene–

Gene looked at everything, and he said he had really wanted to bring something to take pictures of everything, but security said no. So he just looked at things. Really looked at them. If Gene was standing still, not doing anything for a moment, he was looking–at the sky, at the edge of the meadow, at the mecheita he was riding. Like sketching things, only doing it all in his head.

Cajeiri had never had a camera. He had no idea how one worked. And he did not think mani or Great‑uncle would approve: it was a lot like television.

But there were books with pictures. He thought he should give Gene one.

And there was Gene again, with Artur’s sandstone in his fingers, just looking at it, and thinking.

They had so very little time, so very little, and his grandfather had managed to get in the way of them having it. And there was this relative of his, another great‑uncle, Shishoji, or something like that, who had been a problem for years and years.

And who even knew what went on in this Shishoji’s brain, or what he was even after, except he could be involved with the Shadow Guild.

Had Grandfather known about that, and not warned them?

That night when Grandfather had tried to get into their apartment and get to him –that was still scary.

And now they had this Shishoji person trying to kill everybody, and a troublesome Kadagidi over the hill who was up to no good. Was anybody really surprised? Kadagidi had always been trouble.

He had no idea why they were. But he became interested in finding out.

They talked about all sorts of things, he and his guests, in the sitting room of his suite, with its tall, wonderful windows. The sun being down, they had to keep the curtains drawn and stay away from the windows–but they had comfortable chairs they could pull up in a circle, and there they could sit and talk the way they had used to do in the echoing service tunnels of the ship. In the ship’s tunnels, they had shivered in the cold and had to find nooks where it was safe to sit, where nobody would find them and where none of the machinery would run over them.

Now they had this comfortable room with the windows and soft furniture, and Eisi and Lieidi to serve them tea and teacakes, as many as they could eat–not many, after the supper they had had; and his aishid had the rest. Lucasi and Veijico understood some of what he and his guests were saying–but Antaro and Jegari were a lot better at it, having studied ship‑speak longer.

Antaro and Jegari were a little close‑mouthed, however, not saying what they might have heard during their own supper, with all the high‑up Guild. Cajeiri fairly burned to ask–but if it was really, really important, they would have called him aside and told him, he was very sure.

His guests talked about what the space station was like now–a place he had never really gotten to see that much of. It was the ship he really knew. And he heard that the ship, Phoenix was docked at a distance from the station, and only working crew could go out there.

That did not include Reunioners who had only been passengers.

Another pot of tea, a trip to the accommodation, one by one, under escort, and they were out of teacakes–Cajeiri talked about the west coast, and Najida, and where nand’ Bren lived, and Lord Geigi’s house; and how he had gotten lost in a storm in a rowboat. His guests were impressed.

By the end of that story, however, they all were flagging. Artur’s eyes were closing. And despite the beds his staff had made ready for them, Cajeiri thought he would happily just fall asleep in the chair, and they all could just sit there together, all night, talking whenever they waked up and felt like it.

“Nandi,” Eisi said quietly, at his side, “will you like to come to bed, now?”

He had had his eyes shut. For a moment he had been seeing the fields, feeling the mecheita moving under him.

Artur had fallen asleep, and Irene and Gene were trying not to nod off.

There was a weird sound from outside, far off: mecheita, he thought. And then he heard a mecheita grunt, and another moan, and then three or four.

Mecheiti did that when they were disturbed. It could be vermin in the stable.

Then there was a horrid screech that woke up Artur and had Gene and Irene wide‑eyed.

“Boji!” Cajeiri cried, leaping to his feet, with every intent of going to the window to open the drapes.

But then a rifle shot echoed off the walls.

“Lights,” Veijico said sharply–she was already on her feet. All his aishid was, and he was. The rest of them stood up just as Lieidi, close to the door, threw the light switch.

The room went dark, all but a light in the bodyguards’ bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Irene asked in a whisper. “What’s that sound?”

“Mecheiti,” he said. Down in the stables, the mecheiti were telling everybody to keep out.

Their last light went out, except for the tiny seam of light under the main door–Eisi had gone into the bedroom and gotten that one. By that last seam of light, he saw Jegari putting on his jacket–and Gene bumped into a chair arm–humans did not see well in the dark, he knew that. “Everybody stand still,” he whispered. “Listen.”

He was trying to hear anything coming from his bodyguard’s communications unit, faint as it might be. Outside, another faint seam of light at the edges of the drapes: someone had just thrown on the outside lights. The mecheiti continued threatening and moaning about something.

He heard a faint scratching, then, right at the window.

Guild, was his first thought, even up here.

But then there was that tap‑tap‑tap of a bony, long finger, on the window glass–the way Boji opened eggs.

“That’s Boji !” he whispered. “Open the drape, nadiin‑ji! Please! He wants in!”

Antaro was nearest. She very carefully pulled back the drape, and there in the gap, against the glow of floodlights below, was a little spindly‑armed silhouette, looking in, hands spread on the glass.

“Let him in,” Cajeiri said. “Let him in! Let him in, Taro‑ji!”

“Gari,” Antaro said to her brother, and Jegari worked his way to the other side of the window. They let the drape fall a moment, as the two of them, each on a side, loosed the latches and carefully eased the window up a little.

“Boji!” Cajeiri said softly, and made that clicking sound he used to imitate Boji’s own. “Egg, Boji! Eisi‑ji, quickly, find him an egg, Eisi‑ji!”

The commotion down in the mecheita pen was clearer with the window open. There were voices outside. Lucasi and Veijico were talking on Guild communications, telling whoever they were talking to that Boji had just come up the wall.

“I have the egg, nandi,” Eisi said.

“Let me have it. Quickly!” Cajeiri took it, and held it in his hand–Boji’s kind could surely see it even in the dark. He obeyed Antaro’s furious signal and kept back against the wall as he reached the window. She shoved him down, low, and he held it on the windowsill, determined not to let Boji snatch it and run.

Boji’s head appeared, under the curtain, in the barely adequate opening Antaro and Jegari had created.

Then more of him eased in under the window. Everyone in the room stayed very still.

“Come, come, come, Boji. Egg. ” He kept it just out of reach. “Take the egg.”

All of Boji came in.

“Now!” Antaro said aloud, and down went the window, smoothly, from both sides.

The window slamming down panicked Boji. He jumped for a chair in the dark and jumped again, one place after another, and lost himself in the recesses of the high ceiling, where no light reached.

“Lock the window,” Veijico said quietly. “Get the young gentleman back from it, nadiin.”

She had just said it and he had gotten up, about to back away, when a shot went off, not near the mecheita pen. North of that, his ears told him. On the grounds outside, but under Great‑uncle’s and mani’s windows.

“Mani!” Cajeiri said. “Nadiin! Mani’s rooms!”

“They are safe,” Lucasi said. “The grooms are closing the herd into the stables. Taibeni riders are coming in. They will be searching that little wood near the garage and all up and down. They may try that powder again. The riders are aware of it.”

Damn, Cajeiri thought. They were all standing in the dark, he still had a stupid egg in his hand, and now his aishid was shifting about, putting protective jackets on, and strapping on their sidearms. He set the egg down on the table nearest, intending to explain to his guests as much as he knew, when of a sudden something dropped like a missile and left again.

And the egg was gone.

· · ·

“Any word?” Bren asked–he and Jase were in the dark, literally. The two of them had been in late conference in Bren’s suite when the alert had come down. Banichi and Jago had grabbed up jackets and pistols and headed out to liaison with Cenedi at the first alarm. Tano and Algini had stayed–armed, in the dark, with the door locked, and talking to someone. Jase had advised Kaplan and Polano, next door, to arm and expect news as it came in.

“We are receiving word,” Tano said calmly, “that fire came from one of the house guards. A sensor picked up someone near the stable. The young gentleman, meanwhile, reports the parid’ja came back to the window and they let him in.”

Guild reports were not sloppy. The report said someone, not movement, or an animal. Some one had been at the stables, and if Cajeiri’s pet had had anything to do with what followed–it had probably run for a high spot when some one had come close to its hiding‑spot.

“We have a problem,” he said in ship‑speak, for Jase’s benefit. “Near the stables. Our problem didn’t get out on foot. He might have decided to risk taking the herd‑leader. Meanwhile Cajeiri’s little pet made it back to his window and they let it in.” He was not happy about the youngsters near a window at the moment.

“You think he’d survive to get a saddle on that fellow?” Jase asked, and simultaneously someone knocked on the door. A human voice said, “Captain?”

“Kaplan and Polano,” Bren said to Tano, who was nearest the door. “Let them in, nadi.”

A quick unlock let Jase’s bodyguard into the room from the lighted hall–and both of them arrived in tees and knit pants, Polano with his rifle, Kaplan with a pistol.

The door shut quickly, leaving them back in the dark.

“We’re all right,” Jase told his guards. “Tano and Algini are with us. The house seems secure but we’ve had an intruder out by the mecheiti.”

“There’s nothing we can do at the moment,” Bren said. Two ship’s security officers trying to assist would only add to the problem–especially with Taibeni riders coming in. “We just sit in the dark and let the Guild figure this one out.”

“Cenedi sent Nawari down the hall to see to the children,” Algini said. “The young gentleman’s aishid reports they opened the window very slightly to retrieve the parid’ja, not having their lights on at that point. They say no one was exposed.”

Cenedi was going to have an extensive word to say to the young gentleman’s aishid, Bren thought. They were all young. Cajeiri was hard to tell no. Thank God they hadn’t had a shot fired through that window.

“The second shot was from a member of Lord Tatiseigi’s Guild, who fired from an assigned position to try to stop two fugitives along the back of the house. Lord Tatiseigi’s man did not pursue. This was his order–not to leave his post for any reason.”

Two fugitives.

Algini was silent a moment. “Taibeni are coming up, part of them through the woods. The western camp has riders out now to sweep the perimeters.”

One would not want to be in the fugitives’ situation. Tatiseigi’s herd was locked in, stout doors and heavy bars assuring that herd was not going to break loose and take after the Taibeni, who were going to be fanning out along the hedges, through the woods, and looking for a scent trail–

Once the mecheiti found it–it was going to be an ugly business out there. The fugitives couldn’t run fast enough–no one could. They could try the powder, they could try shooting from ambush, and they might bring riders and mecheiti down–but not all of them, not before the riders would run them down and the mecheiti would take them apart. They’d saddled fast–the Taibeni might or might not have the war‑caps on those tusks, but with or without, they were lethal. He didn’t want to see the result. But it was a near certainty he would have to. They needed to know whose these men were.

He sat down, feeling his way by the table edge. In the house, everything was quiet.

“Unfortunate,” he said. “The Taibeni aren’t going to go half‑measures. The Taibeni value their animals–and control in a hunting herd is on a thin thread, as it is. If they try that powder trick again–we may not have anyone to question.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Seems to us your security is handling the problem.”

“I’m very glad they are.”

“Any bets it’s the Kadagidi?”

“We have no few choices.” Tano turned the lights back on. “Are we clear, Tano‑ji?”

“Not yet,” Tano said. “But this floor is clear.”

It was late. It had been late before the trouble began. But there was no chance they were going to go to bed until they had answers. And Supani had stood up, standing at the side, but back on duty, the room having guests. “Tea?” Bren asked Jase. “It seems we’re going to be a while at this.”

“There’s a chill,” Jase said. “Not sure whether it’s the night or the events.”

“Tea,” Bren said, “all around.” Supani nodded and set about it, Koharu moving to help him, while Tano and Algini talked to someone who presumably was in touch with those outside.

“It’s not the way the Kadagidi normally go about things,” he said to Jase, “up close like this. Usually it’s sniping from a distance. Political maneuvering. However, they’ve been pretty well confined to their own borders this entire year. The people can come and go, but Aseida’s been bottled up–not his bodyguard, but Aseida himself. If he’s picked this time to make a nuisance of himself to Tatiseigi, it’s a bad time.”

“Not part two of the grandfather’s assassination.”

“I don’t rule anything out–from either side of that matter. If it’s a probe–they already suspect their answer. And finding that out’s fairly inevitable. We only figured the Malguri story to last a few days, as is–possibly not past a Kadagidi spy on the road here. There’s a reason the Taibeni met us at the train station. They were sweeping the area before we got there, and they’ve been watching the road between Kadagidi and here. The Kadagidi have their own train station, two of them, one in the township, one closer to the Kadagidi estate. It’s not as if they need to be using the road past Tatiseigi’s estate. As far as I know–it’s not been an issue.”

Koharu poured tea for them, as Supani was doing the same for Kaplan and Polano. Bren took a sip.

“The Taibeni have located them, nandiin,” Algini said. “The signal is located but not taken.”

Damn. A complication?

“What do you think is going on, Gini‑ji?”

“One rather suspects,” Algini said, “that our problems are up a tree.”

· · ·

They could have the lights on now, Nawari said as he arrived, and kindly turned them on.

Cajeiri was relieved that the alert seemed to be winding down, and he drew easier breaths with Nawari in the room to look things over. He trusted his own aishid, that they could take care of things if they happened, but he by no means wanted things to happen tonight, with gunshots going off. He had heard that sound all too often in his life, and one could not trust being absolutely safe even on the second floor.

And his guests were impressed and seemed reassured, now that the light was on. Nawari walked around with his rifle in hand–Nawari was lean and particularly good‑looking and very professional‑looking in his glance over things.

“Good you had the lights out,” Nawari said.

Antaro said firmly, “The moment the alert came, Nawari‑nadi.”

Nawari looked at the window latch, took a look outside, moving the filmy curtain with his hand, and looked satisfied.

Then he looked at him. “One understands you recovered the parid’ja, nandi.”

Cajeiri took a careful breath: Nawari would not chastise him or his aishid in front of his guests, no.

But he could not let his aishid be pulled aside for a reprimand, either. “Nawari‑nadi, I ordered it. We heard the mecheiti. And then we heard Boji scratching at the window. We had turned the lights out.”

“We put the lights out immediately when we heard a disturbance,” Veijico said, which was right. “Records will note we notified security simultaneously.”

“Then Boji tapped the window,” Cajeiri said. “He makes this sound. My aishid was very careful. They opened the drape from the sides, we had the lights out, and we did not open the window but a crack. I had an egg, and Boji came in on his own.”

Nawari looked at Antaro and Jegari.

“The tap is distinctive, nadi,” Antaro said, “and we at no time presented a target.”

“Bear in mind that the window‑glass would not stop an intruder, nadiin. –Our allies have deployed riders from both camps, tracking two targets. Do not look out the windows, even after the all‑clear.”

“Great‑uncle’s herd–” Cajeiri said, thinking instantly of Jeichido out there.

“Shut in,” Nawari said. “Safe and shut into their stable. Our allies are dealing with the matter. There may be unpleasantness. Your guests, young gentleman, should not be confronted with the view.”

He understood, then–he absolutely understood. “Yes, Nawari‑nadi,” he said.

“You seem to be in good order here. Are you anxious about being by yourselves tonight, young gentleman? There will be guards in the hall all night.”

“We are perfectly fine,” he was quick to say. “Only no house servant should open our door.”

“That word is already out, for all the house.” Nawari headed the door, and Cajeiri cast a fast look about the tops of the curtains and hangings.

“Please,” he said as Nawari laid his hand on the latch, “please be very careful with the door, Nawari‑nadi. Boji is hiding somewhere in the suite, and one does not wish him loose in Great‑uncle’s house.”

“One will be very careful,” Nawari said solemnly, and was exactly that, in leaving them alone in the room.

The Taibeni had the mecheiti hunting the intruders.

At least they were not in Great‑uncle’s basement.

He hoped there were no more of them.

He faced his guests, who had not, he thought, gotten all of that past Nawari’s Malguri accent.

And he did not want to tell them all of it, about the mecheiti, or he would never get them back near the stables.

“Everything is good,” he said. “All safe.” He glanced at his aishid, very sorry that he had gotten them in trouble. “Nadiin‑ji, one regrets–”

Antaro gave a little oblique nod, as if to say, yes, there would be a problem, but his aishid would deal with that for him, too.

“We have Boji back,” she said.

“Wherever he is,” Lucasi said.

But they all sat down to talk it over, late as it was, with his aishid nominally still on duty, still armed, leaning rather than sitting.

And in a little while Boji put his head out from the top of a drape.

“Egg,” Cajeiri said, and Lieidi, nearby and with his eye on Boji, calmly reached into his pocket and produced one. “His egg, nandi.”

· · ·

“We are strongly suspecting,” Tano said, still listening to the communications flow, and still with no word what the situation was out on the grounds, “that this infiltration was prior to the sensors going up. It would take a very expert sort to get in here now. I know only four who could attempt it and three of them are under this roof.”

“The fourth?” Bren asked. Jase was doing a shorthand translation for Kaplan and Polano. Algini was checking Banichi’s black box, doing something.

“Far too wise to take off across that meadow with the mecheiti let loose. We believe they were inside, decided to try to get out. At the moment, we are more worried about anyone who may be left inside.”

“Somebody our housecleaning missed?” Bren asked.

“Possibly, nandiin‑ji. We have kept staff frozen in place for hours for individual interviews. We have begun to release certain staff, one area at a time, as their personal quarters are searched and cleared. Lord Tatiseigi’s security is proceeding now with a roll call, all staff to report for individual recognition and clearance, and it has been slow. We are not accepting a supervisor’s word without an interview and an examination of identification–we are doing this as delicately as possible, considering we are treading over Atageini prerogatives. We have conducted interviews. We have asked about unlocked doors, pilferage, or unusual behavior, about persons late, or otherwise out of routine. We have had chiefs of staff cross‑compare the schedules and duty reports. We are now going over those records ourselves. We have checked the furloughed servants: five groundskeepers who were put on holiday before our visit–three mechanics sent on furlough the day before our arrival. They are registered at the hotel in the township. We have sixteen questionable individuals lodged in a house, under guard, which represents every individual who might know anything about our activity and security arrangements here. We have not had any deliveries, no one coming or going.”