Protector

“We are not satisfied with the garage,” Algini said sharply. “It abuts the area where we had the first alarm. We are rechecking.”

“The three mechanics,” Tano said, “normally have quarters in the loft above the service area. We started processing that area this afternoon. The vehicles, the loft, the fueling station, the service pit . . . the searchers say most access doors are painted shut and undisturbed–they opened the plumbing access, and checked for signs of entry, but found none. The place is evidently a dense clutter of tools, pipe, chain, all sorts of things. Four of Cenedi’s men spent two hours going over the place–but we also have had the basements to go through, and the staff checks. The team in charge locked the garage and put a guard on it, then went to check plumbing accesses that branch off from that one.”

“We are not satisfied,” Algini repeated. “We have been through the basements–we are assured the basements have no access at all except through the door in the main hall, and Lord Tatiseigi confirms that is the case, but we have been surprised before by some detail that dates to the last century. The garage holds two dead vehicles besides the current, besides, we are told, every tool and spare part ever needed on this estate, besides plumbing and electrical parts, hose, chain, and parts for an earthmover not in the garage: there are accesses, plates welded shut, painted shut, accesses built over with shelves–the moment we had the second alarm, we unlocked that door and started another search. Banichi and Jago, with Rusani’s men and the original four, are rechecking the place right now. We have cleared the entire house to our reasonable satisfaction. Not the garage. And we are having to proceed with caution, nandi, in the event of some sort of trap.”

He had never seen the garage–there was a drive, a cobbled spur off the wide sweep of the drive at the front door, but it was offset somehow from the frontage, not apparent from the approach, and its east wall, also inset, was screened in shrubbery, vines, and an arbor–which he did think of when he thought about the nearness of the garage to their trouble spot of the afternoon. There was the shrubbery, the arbor–and a very long stone’s throw removed from that, the little woods started, with its little path for walks on summer days. That woods was what he had been looking at when they had the first alarm. The garage, behind its camouflage, he did not even recall as a stone wall. The two upper floors rose above what looked like just part of the landscaping. A place out of mind. Never visited. Lord Tatiseigi himself had probably never ventured into it–just stepped into his car at the front door. Get rid of the old tools? They had met Lord Tatiseigi’s notions that old was perfectly good, that getting rid of what one had paid good money for was just unthinkable . . . the mechanics had had help in that accumulation.

Maybe, he thought uneasily, they should just call the mechanics back from the township and have them go through the place. They probably knew what belonged there, and didn’t.

Damn, he didn’t like it.

“What’s the story?” Jase asked him. “I missed some of that.”

“The mechanics’ quarters. It’s apparently a cluttered mess and it’s right near where they had the first alarm. They’ve searched it once. They’re increasingly sure that’s where we need to look, and Banichi and Jago are in there now.”

Banichi and Jago were good, but Tano and Algini were the demolitions experts. He’d feel better if it were Algini in there doing the bomb search. If it was Kadagidi mischief, even an assassination attempt, it was one thing. But if it was Shadow Guild–

Scratch that thought. What he knew now said that the Kadagidi were the Shadow Guild, or as good as, and that group didn’t stick at civilian casualties, explosives, wires, damage to historic premises–anything to take their targets by surprise and anything to create fear and panic. They couldn’t claim they hadn’t hedged Guild regulations themselves: Tano and Algini had taken out two rooms right here in this house, eliminating one of Murini’s mainstays.

He hoped to God the Shadow Guild hadn’t returned the favor.

What did it take to get a load of explosives into Lord Tatiseigi’s estate, between packing off the resident mechanics to the township and the dowager’s men doing a massive security installation?

Before their security revision–it could come in as a load of foodstuffs.

He sat and sweated, listening to what he could overhear from Tano and Algini–not wanting to say or do anything to distract anybody, and wishing they would hear from the Taibeni. He hoped they had gotten information out of the intruders. He hoped they were in shape to talk, and that, even if they weren’t forthcoming with information, they could find out what they were. That alone–

Then again–the routine homecoming for Lord Tatiseigi would have involved the touring car and the truck.

If they had not used the bus, Bren thought with a slight chill, if they had come in at the train station and called to be met by the estate truck and that huge open car, as Tatiseigi always traveled–and if drivers who were not the regular Atageini drivers showed up–

Tatiseigi would have taken alarm at once. But he might not have had time to do more than realize that fact.

God.

He did not interfere in a Guild operation. He had sworn it to himself in the Najida affair; and already violated it. His mind kept racing, actually hoping that that was the case, and that it did not involve explosives. But he kept his mouth shut. His team had to investigate what bore investigating, and find out, not guess.

Algini took a deep breath, reacting to something he’d heard. Then: “The Taibeni have them, nandiin‑ji,” Algini said. “Two of them. Guild. The Taibeni are bringing them back.”

Have them. Not killed them.

“The report is they climbed a tree, and surrendered, though there was a lengthy negotiation,” Algini said. A pause. Then: “They have asked to speak to you, Bren‑ji.”

16

So what did one wear to an after‑midnight meeting with men who had attempted one’s life?

A bulletproof vest was the first choice.

Banichi and Jago were on their way–they had broken off the search and sealed the garage. Ilisidi and Lord Tatiseigi also intended to have a look at these intruders: but as Jase put it, four humans downstairs was probably too many, and he had no desire to be a distraction. He and Kaplan and Polano were headed down to the house security station where he could get a report and translate the situation for his two guards without getting in the way.

Bren changed coats for a better one . . . with the weight of his small pistol in the pocket. Tano and Algini waited at the door for him–and now he narrowed his focus to just them. From now on they entered a kind of choreography in which, indeed, it was just him and his guard going down there, to meet up with Banichi and Jago. From here on, it was his aishid in charge: he had to be completely aware of their signals, position himself exactly where they wanted him to be, and believe that he could concentrate on his job only when he was where they wanted him.

If anything went wrong down there, or if they weren’t liking the situation, he’d pick it up in his peripheral vision–by mind reading, he sometimes thought, awareness of them so keen he could feel their reactions right up his backbone. Right reactions for an atevi world. He settled into that, uncommunicative, as they headed for the stairs–Cenedi had asked the paidhi‑aiji’s bodyguard to see these prisoners, find out what they had intended, before they let them anywhere near Ilisidi and Tatiseigi, and find out why they had asked to see the paidhi‑aiji.

But they were not meeting them alone. Cenedi had lent them twenty of his own.

Twenty. And two of them. Intimidation: just as his best coat was meant to put two fugitives, just pulled from a tree, at a disadvantage.

Banichi and Jago were waiting for them, down in the foyer, along with that number of the dowager’s guard–so many black uniforms the light in the foyer seemed dimmed and the echoes were dead, overwhelmed in the slight shift of very tall bodies. Bren stepped onto the floor, his aishid moving around him, making space for one pale, shoulder‑high human in a towering, black‑skinned company. No one spoke. After only a moment of their waiting silence they could hear the sounds of mecheiti in the distance, coming from the north end of the house.

Mecheiti arrived on the drive at a slow pace, walking, with the rhythmic sound of harness and the scrape of blunt claws on the cobbles.

That stopped. There were voices, footsteps ascending. Banichi exchanged a word with someone on com, gave a quiet signal to the men in charge of the doors. The whole foyer whispered with the shift of bodies, the movement of weapons.

One door opened; the other was pinned fast, and the night wind came in, a breath of chill. The porch light showed a number of Taibeni, in their green and brown, the only district where the Assassins’ Guild did not go in black. In their midst, came two windblown strangers in Guild black–not restrained, but surely disarmed. They came in, and their eyes made a fast search of the reception–a little surprised, perhaps, at so many weapons.

Then they saw Bren, and Bren saw instant focus–awareness, emotion of some sort. Nerves twitched, his aishid was already on high alert, and he heard one simultaneous rattle of weapons around the foyer.

One of the prisoners dropped to one knee. The other did, like some scene out of a machimi play–and Bren just stood there, jolted into an improbable frame of reference.

“Nand’ paidhi,” one said to him, showing both hands empty, “do not put it out to the Guild that we are still alive. Hear us out.”

“Nadiin‑ji,” Bren said–not to them, but to his own aishid. He had no idea what had and had not gone out to the Guild system.

“We have reported nothing as yet,” Algini muttered, at Bren’s shoulder, and Bren stood there, aware of his aishid, of the protection around him. And the intent in front of him didn’t read as a threat–but as strange an approach as he had ever seen. Nobody knelt. Not even to Tabini.

“My name is Momichi,” the first man said in a hoarse and thready voice. “My partner is Homuri. The ones who gave us our orders take theirs from a man named Pajeini.”

“We know that name,” Banichi said, and there was nothing of warmth about it. “Is he still in the Dojisigin Marid?”

“Yes. Probably he is. Nand’ paidhi, they have our whole village hostage. If a report goes out, if they learn we failed–and talked–they will kill everyone, without exception. You spoke for the Taisigi. Speak for us. For our village. For Reijisan. The aiji dowager can move Guild on orders Shejidan cannot track. If anyone can help us–she can. If you could persuade her–”

“What was your mission?” Jago asked sharply, and with a nod to Bren, but likely no shift of her eyes off the two on their knees: “Forgive me, nandi, but there is a great deal of information missing in this business. They come here by stealth, lie in wait, inconvenience the aiji‑dowager, all to ask your help? We believe the paidhi‑aiji would like to hear your reasoning!”

“Our target was not the paidhi. Nor the aiji dowager. Lord Tatiseigi was our objective.”

“Why?” Bren asked.

“We do not know, nand’ paidhi. We can guess . . .”

“Who helped you?” Algini interrupted him, wanting specifics, facts and names. “What was your route?”

“From our village by boat,” Momichi said, “to Lusini on the Senji coast, to the railhead at Kopurna . . .” He looked at Algini, as if judging if that was the answer Algini wanted. And kept going. “To the station at Brosin Ana . . .”

Brosin Ana was the last stop in the Senjin district. It was the old rail line, a route up from the Marid, through the mountains, and the territory of several small associations, finally joining the new line north and east of the capital. Trains from Senji had carried commerce and contraband for two hundred years.

And that line ended in the Kadagidi township, where Marid commerce had always come in, an old, often problematic association that had not been happy, one suspected, to see Tabini back in power, certainly not happy to see the southern Marid talk about its own rail link.

His doing, that talk about a new line–a realization in two heartbeats of stretched time. That the northern Marid wasn’t happy with him –he perfectly well understood.

“To the Kadagidi township,” Momichi said. “We were met, given specific instructions for our mission, and we walked in.”

“Walked in,” Algini said. “From the Kadagidi township.”

A hesitation. But geography made it obvious. “From the Kadagidi estate, nadi.”

“When?”

That was the question, Bren thought. How? ran right beside it.

“Five days ago. We were directed simply to get into the garage, substitute ourselves for the garage staff–and wait until Lord Tatiseigi arrived at the train station and called for his car.”

“Give us the detail,” Algini said. “How were you to accomplish this?”

“It was all laid out. We were to come onto the grounds by the back gate, keep well to the north hedge until we had passed the stables. We were to find an iron plate under the vines, in the corner near the arbor, and that would get us to the water system–we should work behind the pump housing, and follow the pipe to an access.”

“Which access?” Banichi asked. “Where?”

“Beside the hot water tank.”

“Go on,” Banichi said.

“We were to deal with the staff,” Momichi said. “We did not want to kill any of the staff. We were prepared to keep the garage crew drugged and confined. But when we got in–there was no one there. So we thought–they are on leave; they will come back when their lord advises them he is coming. We just need to wait. Our information said the garage staff used its own kitchen, rarely mixed with the rest of the staff–that it was very likely no one would come to the garage at all, except the garage staff when they came back. That was the plan. But there was no one there. We never used the lights. We never used the stove. We just waited.” Momichi drew breath. “Then two days on, the house began to stir. And grew busy, as if there was something going on. We caught some voices, and we began to realize there was a great deal of construction going on in the house and on the roof. We went out through the trap, onto the garage roof, that night, and we saw a patrol, Taibeni, on mecheiti, on the front grounds; we saw a glow against the hedges, lights moving. We had no idea what to think–whether Taibeni had occupied the Atageini lord’s estate, or whether they were preparing an ambush– We stayed very quiet. We thought, if they kill Lord Tatiseigi, the garage staff may not come back. But everything had changed. We decided to stay to find out what was going on–but then we began to realize it was more than Taibeni, that there were other Guild about. And nothing made sense. We thought–we might take the car, claim we were on some errand, and drive out the gate–granted the Taibeni would not know the regular staff. But we decided we might still accomplish what we were sent to do; and even if we failed at that–if we could find out what was going on at Tirnamardi, we might be able to trade that information to the rebels.

“Then we realized Lord Tatiseigi had come home without calling for his car–that the aiji‑dowager was in the house. That was the point at which we decided we were in something so far beyond our understanding–it could bring the whole north and East down on the Marid. We thought–we even thought of simply calling on the house phone and reporting ourselves. But we thought–the rebels would get the news. So we opened the same access and tried to leave. Going straight forward, we immediately set off an alarm on the premises. We had used up our only defense against the mecheiti–to keep them from finding the access. We decided to make a second try, but we knew we would never make it on foot if another alarm sounded and the mecheiti were let loose. We thought of taking the car–but doubted we could ram the gate. We thought then–if not afoot–then we might use the mecheiti native to the grounds. If we could bridle two of the leaders while they were settled for the night, we could loose the herd, ride for the east gate and hope the mecheiti would create enough confusion with the Taibeni riders for us to get through the gate. Well, it was a foolhardy idea.” Momichi sighed and shook his head. “We no more than opened the door when some night creature bolted across the rails setting up a racket, the mecheiti all rose up in a panic–and a shot went off. At that point–we ran. We just ran.”

Boji, Bren thought. Boji. Of all damnable things.

“We expected,” Momichi said, “the Atageini would immediately loose the herd on us. We headed for the trees. We made it a distance into the woods, and since we had not had the Atageini herd behind us–we were expecting the Taibeni riders. They cut us off. We climbed for it. We had our rifles. They had theirs. We shouted back and forth a while. We exchanged views–they were upset about the black powder. We granted their point. And we knew the danger should the report about us get out to the south–we told them about that. They said that we could present our case to the aiji‑dowager and Lord Tatiseigi, and you, but that they had no sympathy. So we said–if we could talk to you, nandi, we would surrender. And we did.”

If there was bad luck to be had, Bren thought, these two had found it at every turn–bad luck their security had arranged, true. But bad luck that had come full about. These two had come back alive.

And, damn, the expressions looked sincere. They were exhausted, they had spent days in a situation progressively going to hell, and their story made sense, step by miserable next step, so that he was almost inclined to believe them. They’d had rifles. They’d had a chance to use them. They said they’d come for one target, only one–strictly regulation, give or take the lack of a Filing. They had not harmed anybody on staff. At the end, they hadn’t shot it out with the Taibeni or aimed at the mecheiti–which had probably persuaded the Taibeni to stand back and talk them down.

He hoped his aishid could figure them out: he looked at Algini, and at Jago, who gave no offender any grace.

“You posed us quite a difficulty,” Algini said to the pair in an easier tone. “You are not village‑level.”

“No, nadi.” No hesitation in that answer. A little return of spirit.

“Where assigned?”

“We served in Amarja, nadi,” Momichi said. “In the citadel.”

“In whose man’chi?” Algini asked.

“In the aiji’s,” came the curt answer. “But not this aiji.”

This lord of Dojisigi clan, and aiji of a quarter of the Marid at the moment, was a fifteen‑year‑old spoiled brat of a girl, who had once expected to marry Tatiseigi’s nephew. She was twice lucky–first that the nephew had been packed off to the East, and second, that she was alive, and thus far getting her own way, where it regarded personal comforts and the illusion that she was in charge of the district.

But was young Tiajo likely to remain in office another year? Bets inside and outside the Marid ran counter to that. She was lord only because she was next in line, though under house arrest. She might have been a convenient rallying‑point for the remnant of the Shadow Guild, but evidently even they had found her more liability than asset.

“Does your partner have a voice?” Banichi asked.

“Nadi,” Homuri said. “Yes.”

“ Why were you in your village?”

“We were dismissed from the citadel,” Homuri said, “when the Shejidani Guild took over. We were told, all of us, to go separately back to our home districts, our own villages, and maintain order. We went to Reijisan. We both came from there. Our partners went another direction. To Meitja.”

“And with your skills, you could not protect this village?”

“Nadi,” Homuri said, “we could not. They took our weapons.”

“Who took them?”

“The Shejidani Guild. They confiscated all our weapons, all our equipment. When they sent us out, we went afoot, with nothing, nadi, from the point the truck dropped us, a day’s walk from our village. We had no communications, no weapons, no equipment, not even a canteen or a folding knife.”

“In the night,” Momichi said, “when the rebels drove this truck into the center of the village–we were called out. They said in the hearing of the whole village that it was full of explosives, and that if we did not come meet with them, they would set it off. So we did. They gave us their proposition, that we undertake an easy, limited mission, one man, and when they had news Lord Tatiseigi was dead–they would leave the village and we would never see them again.”

“Did you believe that?” Algini asked.

A hesitation. “No,” Momichi said. “But we still have to believe it.”

That, Bren thought, had the sound of a man who had actually made that decision.

“Where is your man’chi?” Bren asked them outright.

“To our village, now, nandi,” Momichi said.

“And to which Guild?” Algini asked shortly.

That brought silence, a careful consideration, and for the first time, Bren thought, they were going to hedge on the answer.

“Not to the rebels, nadi,” Momichi said.

There had to be an attachment, Bren thought. Man’chi had to go somewhere, it always was somewhere, or there were dire psychological consequences.

“Where?” Bren asked again, and drew their attention back. “If you want my help–start with the truth.”

“We are Amarja Guild. We are not these new people. We are not these people who take hostages and threaten villages. We are not the Shejidani Guild, dispersing us, confiscating our equipment, and leaving the countryside open to our enemies.”

“You followed the old rules,” Algini said.

“We are Guild, the same as you, nadi. This was a mission we were given–and we would do it honorably. We would observe the mission limits. Honorably. We have no personal grudge against Lord Tatiseigi, but if he died, it would throw everything in the north into chaos, and the Shejidani Guild holding Amarja might even be pulled back. We thought that might be their plan. But if that happened, we might come back, too: we had had our assignments, under the old lord–if the rebel northerners set Tiajo free, we might take up guard in the citadel again. But they lied to us about the mission. Or they had no idea what was going on up there. We found ourselves in deeper and deeper trouble, and a situation the meaning of which we did not know, except that it involved the aiji‑dowager and the heir and humans–which could bring down the powers in the heavens into it all. So we decided to abort the mission and get out.”

“Where were you going?” Tano asked.

“As far as we could. Home, if we could get there. Out of that place, in the open air, if that was all we could get. We had no hope of reaching the aiji‑dowager. We feared we were set up to bring war down on the Marid. The Taibeni ran us down. But when they said the paidhi‑aiji was here–nandi, you spoke for the Marid. So we agreed to surrender, if we could talk to you. We ask–we ask you go to the aiji‑dowager and tell her what is happening in the Marid.”

“Go on,” Bren said.

“We ask you, nandi, first report our deep apology to Lord Tatiseigi, and to the aiji‑dowager, and tell her–tell her in the first place, we did not do this willingly, we know there was no Filing, and we are guilty of that. But, nandi, we need protection. The Shejidani Guild is in Amarja, safe and secure; but those of us out in the villages, nandi, we are down to hunting rifles we borrow from our neighbors, and if a truck full of explosives drives into a village center, even if we had our communications units–what chance the Shejidani Guild would come running on our word, and what chance the village could escape reprisals? This is doing her associations no good either. We ask you to ask the aiji‑dowager to do something–to tell someone with associations in the Marid that the Dojisigi countryside is in trouble, and that we and our Guild are helpless to do anything.”

Silence followed that.

Bren looked at Algini, at Banichi, at Tano and Jago.

Claims. But no proof–except the presence of a very good Dojisigi unit and detail on a mission they had apparently aborted–with no collateral damage.

Finessed, as the traditional Guild said. An operation carried out within the law–give or take the critical matter of a Filing.

The dowager, intervene? The dowager’s action in the Marid had shifted over to diplomatic and legislative efforts, to advance Machigi, not the Dojisigi’s favorite Marid lord, to take power over the whole Marid. Tabini had agreed to that solution, not because anybody considered Machigi the perfect answer, but because the alternative was another round of assassinations and wars that would let the Shadow Guild rebuild in the south.

Precisely what was starting to happen in the Dojisigin Marid– with a Guild force sitting in the Dojisigin capital.

“Cenedi has just heard all this,” Banichi said quietly. One was far from surprised Cenedi had been listening in. “He wants to talk to them.”

“Nadiin,” Bren said to the two, aloud. “Get up. I shall present your case upstairs. You will be talking to the dowager’s Guild senior. One urges you be very forthcoming with him–including your situation in the Marid. He will hear you. He will inform the dowager. I make no promises. But I shall see she knows.”

“Nandi.” The Dojisigi got to their feet. They bowed, as deeply as Guild ever bowed, bowed courteously to his aishid, too, and Banichi directed the two into the keeping of Cenedi’s men.

Bren set his hand on the banister and started up the stairs. But he stopped on the bottom step, and asked, “Am I a fool, nadiin‑ji?”

“They are a high‑ranking unit,” Banichi said. “The Dojisigi lord was very deeply betrayed by the Shadow Guild; and killed by our forces. A conflicted man’chi? We have no way to know. The order to dismiss the local Guild from the citadel and confiscate equipment makes sense. But the occupying Guild has no force adequate to handle all that territory. We have to ask–does Dojisigi Guild already in outlying districts still have their equipment, or what happened to that? And if they ordered these units out of the capital–knowing the Shadow Guild was still operating out there–why did they not return their equipment? A confused clerk? A misfiled order? Or did that clerk come through Assignments? But if that happened, and if the situation in Dojisigi is unraveling, there is nothing quiet we can do right now. We are going to question these two in greater depth. And advise the dowager. We can at least do that. What they may or may not know, Bren‑ji– she has accesses as well as associations in the Marid. Whether she will use them–she will decide that.”

· · ·

A signal had passed. Cenedi was just exiting the door of the sitting room where the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi waited, and Banichi and Algini left with him–not the usual partnering. Bren went inside with Jago and Tano, past two of the dowager’s young men and two of Tatiseigi’s at the doors.

The presence he hadn’t expected was Jase–who had arrived in the sitting room solo, and sat there, sipping tea and, atevi‑fashion, not discussing the business at hand.

Bren walked in quietly, gave a little bow to the dowager, and to Tatiseigi.

“Well, nand’ paidhi?” the dowager asked, setting aside her teacup.

“Their names are Momichi and Homuri,” he said. “They are Dojisigi, of the village of Reijisan.”

“Dojisigi!” Tatiseigi said.

“They asked me, aiji‑ma, nandiin, to speak for them, I promised, and I shall–but they are still being questioned downstairs, and everything is still in flux. They say they served the former aiji in Amarja, in the citadel. When the northern Guild took over–all the citadel guards were disarmed, then sent out to maintain order in their own villages and districts. This is their report.”

“Disarmed and then given duty,” Ilisidi said.

“That is their report, aiji‑ma. The order to go to their native villages split them from their partners. And one night the Shadow Guild drove a truck with an explosive device into the center of the village, threatening to kill everyone in the village if these two would not undertake a mission–against you, nand’ Tatiseigi. They had no orders regarding the aiji‑dowager.”

“What is this world coming to?” Tatiseigi asked. “To destroy a village!”

“These two men say they undertook the mission, understanding it was limited. They went by the old train, from Senji to Kadagidi township, and from that house received specific plans to get into Tirnamardi, to take up position in the garage, and substitute for your drivers when you arrived home. They succeeded in reaching the garage, your staff being furloughed. Thus far everything was going smoothly. But then the Taibeni appeared, and Malguri Guild, setting up alarm systems–though they had no idea what was going on outside, only that more clans were involved than the Atageini, and they began to think things were not as they were told. When you suddenly appeared in the house with the aiji‑dowager and the rest of us, they realized their entire plan had gone astray. They maintain they are traditional Guild, that they emphatically are not Shadow Guild. They apologize to you, nand’ dowager, and to you, nandi. They believe they were lied to, that the objective was to bring war down on the Marid, and they wanted only to abort the mission and get out. They tried and met an alarm. They tried again, this time with the notion of using the mecheiti, and that failed. They finally surrendered to the Taibeni, with no shot fired. They ask their capture be kept secret, for fear the Shadow Guild will carry out their threat. Second, that you, aiji‑ma, use your resources, and your associations in the Marid, to stop the Shadow Guild. They ask you help their village.”

“The destruction of a village,” Ilisidi said, flexing her fingers on her cane, “and by such a means–would create fear, in a district where northerners are deeply distrusted. The Dojisigi are ruled by a fool, occupied by northern Guild, and then the local Guild was stripped of weapons before being sent to the countryside. Is that the story, nand’ paidhi?”

“One expects Cenedi‑nadi will extract more information, aiji‑ma, but yes. That is as I understand it.”

“Unfortunately we cannot phone the Guild in Amarja and ask them the truth of the situation. Stupidity in that guild does not survive training. This has the appearance of enemy action. Let us wait, then, and hear what Cenedi recommends to us. May we hope for your forbearance in this situation, Tati‑ji, if they are proven to tell the truth?”

“Aiji‑ma,” Tatiseigi said, and gave a nod. “At your asking, without question. One is absolutely appalled.”

“Well, well, we shall know nothing until Cenedi has a report for us, with more detail.” She flexed her shoulders. “We are tempted to go back to bed at this point, and let Cenedi sort this out.”

Of all decisions, one had hardly expected that one.

But the dowager was not dismissing the matter. She had the salient parts of the Dojisigi statement. What Cenedi, Banichi, and Algini together could sift out of close questions to those two was going to be names, knowledge, contacts, and the fine details that might prove or disprove the situation as they gave it. Cenedi had kept his finger on the situation in the south. The dowager had direct contacts down there through the Marid trade mission. Lord Machigi of the Taisigin Marid knew the northern Marid; and the dowager had direct links into the Guild units that protected Machigi. It was not impossible she had links into units in Dojisigi and Senji, and every other district of the Marid.

Sources. Indeed the dowager had them.

“We are well after midnight,” Tatiseigi said, “and with those two in hand, we have reason to expect the rest of the night to be quiet.”

“Brandy,” the dowager said decisively, and Tatiseigi asked for his servants.

· · ·

“I advise,” Bren said to Jase privately, at Bren’s door, upstairs, and with Tano and Jago right by them, “that you and your staff go to bed and sleep hard. I’ll wake you if there’s reason. That’s a definite sleep hard.”

It was ship‑speak. It meant–don’t depend on a long sleep. He hadn’t had a chance to explain the details. Jase hadn’t had time to tell him what he’d heard between the dowager and Cenedi or the dowager and Tatiseigi, in the sitting room.

But Cenedi had been tapped into the com flow, hearing everything they had heard from the Dojisigi downstairs. It was more than possible that Jase already knew a good deal of it, and knew why the urging to get to bed now.

“Just wake me if you need me,” Jase said, and headed for his suite.

Bren watched him open the door and go into his suite, then went into his own with Jago and Tano. Supani and Koharu were waiting inside, and he immediately began to shed the coat and the vest into his valets’ hands. “Is there any outcome?” he asked Jago and Tano.

“Not yet,” Jago said.

“We are operating mostly dark,” Tano added, “to give the impression we are continuing a search on the grounds. Patrols are still out.”

“Then I am going to get what sleep is convenient. Do as you need to, nadiin‑ji.”

“Yes,” Jago said, which was all‑inclusive. She was listening to something, watching that language of blips and beeps and flashes on the locator that told her where her partner was and whether things were going smoothly.

He took himself straight to bed. Tano, Jago, and his valets continued in the sitting room.

The dowager’s reaction hadn’t been disinterested. He knew that look, that half‑lidded consideration of a matter. Banichi had said there was nothing they could do in the south without touching off the whole business in the north–but–God. He wished there were an alternative.

The Shadow Guild plot against a leading conservative was useful–when the dust settled and they had to prove the case to any doubters.

That the Kadagidi had provided local transport, aid, and comfort to the Dojisigi–and likely detailed house plans and even the deterrent powder and the specific route to take into Tirnamardi–right down to that concealed access– that was something. The Kadagidi had gotten caught before, but they were slippery, always able to claim some provocation.

Actions against Tirnamardi out of the blue, however, when there had been no active exchange of hostilities since Tabini retook the capital, and while the Kadagidi were already under a ban that barred them from court and any legal access to the Guilds’ functions–that was going to be hard to deny. The Transportation Guild was forbidden to convey them. The Messengers’ Guild could not allow them phone service: they were allowed only messages to and from Tabini’s office. The Treasurers’ Guild had frozen their assets, only allowing routine expenses.

Yet they had been the receiving end for two Assassins dispatched by a Shadow Guild operation out of a Dojisigi village, to Senji and then, via the old freight line to, likely, a waiting car in the Kadagidi township–

How would a residence and a lord under a Messengers’ Guild ban even get a phone call from two Dojisigi bent on mayhem over in Atageini territory?

Damned certain Lord Tatiseigi should go to great lengths to preserve these two men’s account. They had never gotten the Kadagidi so dead to rights . . . with no Filing and, this time, Guild who had been coerced, and a Shadow Guild communications network operating between the Kadagidi and their old associates in the Marid.

Banichi had said it–there was nothing they could do from here that did not risk breaking the entire problem wide open, north and south.

But it could be coming. They were all in position, like that move in chess, lord‑to‑fortress.

He stuffed his pillow under his head and deliberately thought not about the Dojisigi village or the Kadagidi over the hill, but about the Najida estate repair budget, complicated enough and dull enough to blunt any imagination.

That worked . . .

· · ·

. . . too well. He came awake with the feeling he had slept much too long, and that someone had either come in or gone out. He rolled out of bed, located his robe and the light switch, and went out into the suite’s little sitting room to find it still dark outside the window. Banichi and Jago were sharing tea and a plate of sweet rolls.

“What time is it, nadiin‑ji?” he asked in some chagrin.

“Just before dawn,” Jago said. “Things are relatively quiet. The aiji‑dowager is awake, and Lord Tatiseigi is waking.”

“The Dojisigi?” he asked.

“The Dojisigi have provided very interesting information, Bren‑ji,” Banichi said, and added with a quirk of the brow: “The dowager sent units to look at Reijisan. They reported two hours ago.”

He had been about to propose he should go dress. “What did they find?”

“Two units we have wanted to find,” Banichi said, “one of which is no longer at issue. Our Dojisigi immediately named a name. Pajeini, Chief of the Shadow Guild in the Marid– personally involved in the threat to them, and, they suspect, similar dealings with the other half of this aishid. He is not yet in our hands, but the second‑in‑command is. The dowager dispatched units very close to Reijisan, found things as described, and they took out the senior unit with very little fuss.”

Bren sank into the third chair. “Is the village safe?”

“There were explosives. They are removed. We have not heard all the details,” Banichi said. “This is Cenedi’s network, prearranged signals to several teams in Dojisigi, prearranged responses, by a physical means Cenedi does not discuss even with us. Cenedi has directed the other half of that unit be located. We want to know where they are. Our pair tells us the freedom they were given on this mission was very worrisome to them, since they could have gotten off that train at any point, and they could have walked up to Lord Tatiseigi’s staff and reported themselves and their situation–but they so strongly believed failure would kill their relatives in Reijisan, they did not take the risk. That has been the character of the Shadow Guild from the start–to instill the belief they know everything, that reprisals inevitably come of crossing them, that they are threaded throughout the Shejidani Guild, and that they will target civilians. Our two believe it can happen, even yet, and we cannot assure them otherwise until we are absolutely sure, ourselves.”

“So they essentially told the truth,” Bren said.

“They were, they say, one of three teams protecting the former lord. And Pajeini knows them– wanted them, and, they think, the intent was to create a crisis in the north to draw forces from the south. We do not want to undertake operations with the young gentleman’s guests present, but–” Banichi said, “we know where Pajeini is, we have a good idea where Haikuti is, and we know where Shishoji is, a rare thing, in itself. The dowager is inclined to move.”

It was what he had feared, last night. It was everything he had sworn to Tabini would not happen–risk to Cajeiri, a potential for their young guests to be involved in a Guild action. Not to mention the risk to Ilisidi herself.

But that would exist, no matter what. Ilisidi was not going to fortify herself in Malguri and wait for an outcome. Far less did he believe she would go up to the space station . . . possibly that she would not want to send Cajeiri there–for political reasons. The heir of the aishidi’tat had been absent from one crisis. Even at his age–there was a problem in having him in human keeping during a second one. He saw that. But–

Damn.

“We have perhaps an hour before we get any other call,” Jago said. “Perhaps less. Will you share breakfast, Bren‑ji?”

“Where are Tano and Algini this morning, nadiin‑ji?”

“They are catching a little more sleep. They should be with us very soon now.”

“A cup of tea. Part of a roll, perhaps.”

Jago got up, got a cup and poured for him. The hot liquid helped the external chill. But not the one inside. His bare feet were freezing.

“There are actions under way,” Banichi said. “We have sent a warning to the commander in Amarja. We cannot be specific about it in this circumstance, but the dowager’s forces at Reijisan have now gotten their own sources of information on the Shadow Guild’s operation, and they will inform command. The matter of sending out locals unequipped–that requires a more delicate inquiry than we can make directly at this point–but the one to blame is likely one individual whose principle threat is in records, not weapons. We are not sending out couriers, badly as we need to pass word. We are not, at the moment, making any stir on the road or near the train station. The Kadagidi, meanwhile, have landed in a very uncomfortable position. One of the great advantages of Filing Intent, beyond, of course, operating within the law–is that the target is limited, everyone is advised, and there is far less chance of the sort of mistake the Kadagidi have made. Their intelligence does not seem to have penetrated Tatiseigi’s security, and consequently they have launched their operation in the presence of the aiji‑dowager, the heir, and foreign guests. Is the aiji‑dowager to let an Unfiled move in her vicinity pass without comment? No. Their illegal action has run head‑on into the dowager’s intentions, while they are already under a ban. And that, one thinks, is exactly what the dowager is assessing. She could challenge them in court over this, and Tabini‑aiji could remove Aseida from the lordship. But that would take time. The Shadow Guild connections would quietly rearrange themselves and we would still have them operating, not much inconvenienced: Haikuti would survive. Aseida might not.”

“She should go after them,” Jago said in a low voice. “We have the route the Dojisigi were to use. There is a hole in the hedge, Bren‑ji, carefully concealed, and a door to the Kadagidi kitchens arranged to stay open. A trap, very possibly, but there are also reasons the Kadagidi would like to have a report from this pair. There is even a reason Haikuti would want to talk to them and that Pajeini would want these two back in the south. They would be an asset not lightly to be thrown away. And by then–they would be outlawed in the north, perfectly suited to take Pajeini’s other orders, possibly against Lord Machigi.”

“Are we ready for an operation? Did you get any sleep last night, nadiin‑ji?”

“By turns,” Banichi said, and shrugged. “Do not worry about us, Bren‑ji. We manage. Unfortunately, Cenedi chooses the teams to go. For this one–he will not risk us.”

“Do we know yet who on their side is directing operations?”

“To a certain extent,” Banichi said, “this far up the chain of command, it may make less difference. Assignments makes the strategic decisions, but he is very old and has never taken the field. Haikuti is the tactician. They both give orders. Shishoji believes he is firmly in charge. Haikuti is disposed to believe he has the authority if he chooses to use it, and that Shishoji will be forced to take care of the details. That is my own interpretation. Haikuti is the reckless one, the engine that drives things. If there is another coup in the making, at present, it will come from him.”

Something had changed. Something more had gotten into the equation last night. Banichi spoke as if he had some window into Assignments that he had not had a few days ago. And he looked unhappy with the situation.

“This is a chancy business,” he said. “To go into that house–”

“If the Kadagidi are paying any attention,” Banichi said, “and it is certain they are–they will have noted the furor last night. They may wonder was it the execution of the mission–or did it go astray? And if their spies have already gotten close enough to get a distant view of children out on the grounds, though we have tried to prevent that–they may now know it is not Tatiseigi alone in residence, and any question of where the dowager has taken the young gentleman and his guests is answered. The Dojisigi did not communicate with the Kadagidi once they were here and realized they had a problem with the mission. We have the means to be sure of that. But the news of what has happened this morning in the Dojisigin Marid will travel. Once it reaches Assignments, and the Kadagidi, one is relatively confident the Kadagidi–and possibly Assignments as well–will start taking protective measures. Assassinations, attacks from the field, political accusations–any means by which they might throw us off balance and destabilize the aishidi’tat. One does not like to think of explosives targeting villages anywhere, north or south, but such things may be used in the north, just as easily, attacks aimed at our allies. These people are outnumbered. The majority of the south is now against them. If the light shines on them too directly– fear is the only weapon they have that we do not. The dowager’s view is that we have, in these few hours, a very narrow window in which to act or decline acting–and we concur. We should take action, in this venture into Kadagidi territory, but Cenedi will not permit it. The dowager will send Nawari, and two of her high‑level units.”

Into a likely trap. If it were his own aishid going–he would be beside himself. That it was Nawari, genial, competent Nawari, closest to Cenedi himself–Cenedi was likely no less worried, but he had sent his best. His closest associate, the closest thing to going in, himself–with high, high risk in the operation.

“There is,” Bren said, “another way into the Kadagidi house.”

They looked at him, both. And he recalled he had sworn to himself not to interfere with his bodyguard.

“You are not to contemplate it,” Jago said. “No, Bren‑ji.”

“If access and Lord Aseida’s attention is what you want, nadiin‑ji, I can get it. We have the bus. We do not need to walk into that house, but I certainly can call on their lord. Socially. Noisily. Lord Tatiseigi has a grievous complaint against Lord Aseida, the dowager has one, Jase has one, and I am perfectly willing to deliver it in person. If we can pose a distraction while, say, Nawari and his men take a careful look at the other access . . .”

Banichi said, “The risk would still be extraordinary.”

“The bus has armor.”

“In some areas,” Jago said.

“There is also Jase’s bodyguard. He is the other paidhi. Another offended guest with his own complaint against Lord Aseida, and his bodyguard is formidable–and proof against our bullets. Kaplan and Polano cannot sit down in that armor, not in the bus seats. They have to stand where they stood on the way in. If the Kadagidi take alarm at that, and take a shot at the bus, even their armor‑piercing rounds are not going to get through that armor. And after that–after an attack on us, we have the right to use any force we please. So, for that matter, does Jase, his ship, and Lord Geigi.”

There was a moment of silence.

“There are rather heavier weapons in their hands than armor‑piercing rounds, Bren‑ji,” Jago said. “And we may well meet them.”

“Is that more danger to us than a Shadow Guild campaign, violating every rule–while we have to obey the law? I am not happy with the notion of explosives being brought to villages, and I am not willing to see people of the dowager’s man’chi and mine take every precaution to observe a law these people freely disregard in their attacks. The Kadagidi have a history of raising claims about their rights. But we have them on failure to File, we have them in the two Dojisigi, who can give the lie to any claim of innocence Kadagidi clan wants to make. If they fire first, with them already under a ban, Tabini‑aiji has justification to remove Aseida as lord, with any force it takes. The Shadow Guild has been constantly shifting targets, in this region and that, striking and departing, doing damage as they please. But Kadagidi is a fixed asset. We have them pinned down. And I do not intend to see any of our people observing Guild rules while the other side breaks them. We have the dowager to protect, and these foreign guests to protect. Jase‑aiji has every right to use the defenses he has, and those run all the way to the station.”

There was a moment of silence, two guarded, worried looks. Then Banichi said: “And what will you answer if they accept a conference and Lord Aseida invites you and Jase inside?”

“I should then ask my aishid what I should answer, and I doubt you would advise that, in a household under the aiji’s ban.”

“They may simply bar the door,” Jago said.

“Frightening them is surely worth something. And meanwhile we have them pinned down, we can interdict anyone who comes out of that house, and Lord Geigi can drop something on their land, with a great deal of precision.”

“Bren‑ji,” Banichi said, “your resolution never to advise your bodyguard is in serious breach.”

“Then advise me. I shall certainly hear advice. But I cannot lose you. And the dowager cannot lose Nawari. You–and Cenedi’s team– you have more importance than I do, when it comes to a fight inside the Guild. You know the names and histories of these people. You have accesses nobody else does. You are not expendable and I am, comparatively, in this part of the fight. If it requires a readjustment in your man’chi–make it. We cannot risk you, and I do not countenance Cenedi risking Nawari, either. He is doing this because he needs you, and he is staying meticulously within the law–but I do not agree he should. We should go in there prepared to deal damage, and Jase and I should make the approach, because our status gives you the right to take them on without a Filing on our side, if they compound their offense with one bullet headed our direction. If there is any legal question–any political question that follows this–then that is my expertise, nadiin‑ji, and I will defend this decision. I would look forward to dealing with any counterclaim this old man in the Guild or his allies can make.”

There was a long silence. “We shall have to talk to Cenedi,” Banichi said, “and advise Tano and Algini. Not to mention the dowager herself. Speed in this is advisable. We do not know when news from the south may reach Guild Headquarters. –Jago.”

“Yes,” Jago said, got up, and headed for the door.

Banichi also left. They had things to arrange. Cenedi to consult.

He, meanwhile, had to talk to Jase–urgently.

· · ·

“We have a problem,” was how he started the explanation, while Jase, roused from sleep, sat amid his bedclothes. Kaplan and Polano had opened the door, and stood in the little sitting‑room, in their shorts.

He explained it. Jase raked a hand through his hair; then said: “We’re in. Can we get a pot of that strong tea in here?”

“Deal,” he said. “I’ve got a spare vest. Choice of colors, brown or green, and bulletproof. I’ll send it with the tea.”

“I’m not particular.” Jase raised his voice. “Kaplan. Polano. Full kit, hear it?”

“Aye, captain,” the answer came back, and Bren headed back through the sitting room, to get back next door and send Supani and Koharu in with the requisite items. Tea for three. One vest, proof against most bullets. He and Jase were about the same size.

The dowager could still countermand the operation, but while he was dispatching Supani and Koharu, Tano and Algini came in to gather up needed gear, and it was clear that that wasn’t happening.

“The aiji‑dowager,” Algini said, “has sent for the bus.”

“We do not know the capabilities of Jase‑aiji’s guard,” Tano added. “We understand they are considerable.”

“They are,” he said. He put on the green vest: he had sent the brown brocade over to Jase. He had on a reasonably good shirt, his good beige coat, and Koharu handed him his pistol and two spare clips. He tucked those into his coat pockets.

Banichi came back. “The bus is well on its way. The dowager has waked Lord Tatiseigi, who is not yet coherent, and she has instructed Cenedi to tell me to tell you to stay behind your bodyguard.”

“One earnestly promises it,” he said. It somewhat troubled him that Banichi seemed cheerful–in a dark and businesslike way. Banichi and Jago both had looked worn and tired less than an hour ago, when they had explained to him that they had been outranked on the mission. Now they were full speed ahead–and he had to ask himself whether he had put temptation in their path.

But he was right, damn it all. Putting Nawari in there to try to draw a response was the best of a bad job. Nawari was a perfectly legitimate target. They could not risk the dowager going over there–though she wasn’t a legitimate target. And Cenedi was going by the book, against a Guild problem that wouldn’t.

He was far from as cheerful as his aishid in the prospect–it wasn’t in his makeup. But he’d been through hell down in the Marid, and he wasn’t Guild, with a traditional bent. He’d begun his career with a far simpler book, a dictionary of permitted words–and he’d watched that dictionary explode into full contact, up on the station.

He’d watched it work. There. Down here . . . he’d watched the world change, and he understood atevi for whom it had changed too fast. His job–his job, as Mospheira had originally defined it–was to keep the peace and recommend the rate at which star‑faring technology would be safe in atevi hands.

In that sense, he’d failed miserably. But events had proceeded too fast, there’d been no time to temper the impact, and now . . .

A descent into the dark ages that had preceded the organization of the aishidi’tat would put a hell of a lot of inappropriate technology into inappropriate use. Hell if he was going to watch that happen.

And the instant he’d seen Jase, with a captain’s personal defenses, descending from the shuttle with the children–he’d had a little chill thought that Lord Geigi had sent him. Lord Geigi had gotten that briefing on his way to orbit. Geigi knew the situation inside the Guild. Knew exactly how it had to be stopped.

Geigi might have recommended the children come ahead. And he might have given the facts of the situation to the other captains, who were hell‑bent on seeing the children’s mission work out, not in some ideal situation, but involved in the world as it was.

Jase had come down with just his bodyguard. The ship‑paidhi.

With his bodyguard. From the starship.

Geigi, he suspected, had sat back at his desk, scarily satisfied.

17

The bus trundled onto the drive at the very edge of dawn, a slight blush to the sky above the hedges. It had a secret, sinister look, its red and black both muted by the dim light, except where the front door light cast its own artificial brilliance.

Black, too, the uniforms of the Guild who quietly boarded, stowing some pieces of heavier armament Bren hoped did not come into play. The rest, and the electronics, were hand‑carried briskly toward the rear. It was war they were preparing.

Bren waited at the foot of the steps. His aishid was in conference with Cenedi and Nawari, beside the open door of the bus. Jase was on his way.

So was Jase’s bodyguard–in armor that trod heavily on the stone steps as they came out of the house, servomotors humming and whining constantly. Jase came down the steps of Tirnamardi, and Kaplan and Polano followed, weapons attached to their shoulders, not swinging free, but held there, part of the armor itself. They were taller, wider than human–taller and wider, even, than most atevi, and gleaming, unnatural white. They carried their helmets, and their human faces looked strangely small for the rest of them.

“That should make an impression,” Bren said, as Jase joined him–Jase in his own blue uniform, with, one surmised, that borrowed vest beneath it.

“Projectiles will ricochet off the armor,” Jase said. “Your people need to know that.”

Jase had a com device on his ear, and behind it.

“I’ll remind them,” Bren said. “Is that two‑way communications?”

“With my own, not with yours,” Jase said, as they went toward the bus. Bren stopped to relay the information to Banichi, then climbed up the bus steps and went to his usual seat.

“Sit with me,” Bren said to Jase. Banichi and Jago were coming aboard, and took seats across the aisle. Tano and Algini went further back in the bus, where the dowager’s men had gathered in the aisle by the galley.

Last of all, Kaplan and Polano came aboard, rocking the bus somewhat and occupying the space between the driver and the door–an armored wall.

One of the dowager’s young men held the driver’s seat. He shut the door and put the bus gently into motion on the curving drive.

Dawn was coming fast. There was almost color in the stone of the house as it passed, in the straggle of woods that ran down the side of the house.

The situation, with Kaplan and Polano blocking out the view in front, and the hedge scrolling leisurely past the side windows, assumed a surreal feeling–a journey like others this bus had made in its brief service; but different. Far more desperate. Before, they had gone in with some hope of negotiation. Now, admittedly, they were not going in any hope of it.

It was a northern house they meant to visit–and all the accumulation of antiquities, associational ties, and politics that went with it–and this one, troublesome as it had been, was one of the core clans of the aishidi’tat. Political fallout was inevitable.

He had indirectly consulted with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. But those two still had deniability. Tabini’s hands were nowhere near the situation. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi were having breakfast. Geigi was in the heavens. Had they met with the paidhiin to spark this retaliation? Absolutely not.

In the list of things one had planned to do to manage a boy’s birthday in some degree of peace and security–deliberately staging an incident between the two oldest houses in the Padi Valley had not remotely been on the horizon.

But here they were.

And if he had been in this kind of situation before, on this bus, and knew its resources–Jase hadn’t, and didn’t.

“Snipers are at issue,” he said to Jase. “Keep your head down if–and when–shots start flying. We have armoring below the windows: the front windows are bulletproof. The tires will hold up against most things. The roof is reinforced. If you have to duck, get as low as you can below the windows and don’t put your head up.”

The kids were, one hoped, sleeping off their late night . . .

As the bus gathered speed toward the gates that would let them out to the road.

· · ·

There had been the most amazing sight in the hall: Kaplan‑nadi and Polano‑nadi in their armor, heading toward the stairs, making that weird racket as they walked. The thumping tread had waked Boji and Boji had waked all of them, and Antaro had looked out the door and told them what it was. So Cajeiri and Gene had gotten there just in time to see Jase‑aiji’s bodyguards go down from the landing and out of sight.

“Stuff is still going on,” Gene had told Artur and Irene, who had arrived too late to see anything. “The captain’s guard is out in armor and everything.”

“What is going on?” Cajeiri asked his aishid, who were all up and dressed. Boji was rattling his cage and setting up a fuss, shrieking and protesting.

Antaro had gone out to find out from the guards in the hall what had gone on, and why Jase‑aiji’s guards were in armor.

“They caught the intruders last night, nandi,” Antaro came back to report, after far too long. “We were told the emergency was over–that we should all go to bed. They maintain the emergency is still over. They have no idea why the ship‑folk are in armor.”

“Everyone,” he said. “Clothes. Taro‑ji, call and find out what is going on.”

“We cannot, nandi,” Lucasi said. “We are getting a short‑range red. That means no communication at all. Shall I go downstairs to find out?”

“Go,” Cajeiri said. Eisi was up and dressed. Lieidi was nowhere in sight yet. “We need our clothes, Eisi‑ji,” he said. “Quickly. Never mind baths. We may have to go down to breakfast to learn anything. Luca‑ji, find out, while you are down there, if there is formal breakfast.”

· · ·

The bus was not proceeding at any breakneck speed–far from it. And there was no space in the aisle at the rear–the dowager’s young men had sat down on the floor back there, rifles and gear with them, ready, and out of view of any observers.

“Nawari’s units have already moved,” Banichi leaned close to say. “We are pacing them on a timetable. That is why we are not up to speed.”

“Yes,” he said, acknowledging that, and relayed it in ship‑speak to be sure Jase understood. “Nawari’s group is afoot. We are keeping pace with their movement. We’ll get there just before them–we know this distance, absolutely. Now we just go over and wish the Kadagidi good morning and see how mannerly they are. Unfortunately–I don’t think we’ll get a good answer.”

He watched the countryside roll past the windows. They’d made the turn onto the main local market road, such as it was, a long low track in a land of scrub and weeds. The road, parallel to the railroad tracks, connected the Kadagidi and the Atageini, and the desolate, unmown condition of the road said worlds about relations between the two clans. The only legitimate traffic between Kadagidi and Atageini territory all year had likely been railway maintenance vehicles.

Before that–before that, for two years, as Murini ruled the aishidi’tat, likely there had been very frequent patrols down this route, Kadagidi keeping an eye on the Atageini, in Murini’s name.

Change of fortunes, decidedly.

· · ·

Breakfast was downstairs, and they were told to come down at their leisure. Great‑grandmother and Great‑uncle were already in the little dining room–Cajeiri knew that immediately by Casimi, one of mani’s secondary guards, being outside the door, along with Great‑uncle’s senior bodyguard. And there was no room for four more in that room.

Casimi, however had seen them, and signaled them, so Cajeiri came and brought his little group–his guests, and his bodyguard–with him.

“One expected you might sleep late, young gentleman,” Casimi said.

“Jase‑aiji’s guards were in the hall in armor. And where is nand’ Bren, nadi?” Nand’ Bren’s guard was nowhere in evidence in the hall, nor was Jase’s, and things seemed more and more out of the routine.

“Jase‑aiji and nand’ Bren have gone to call on Lord Tatiseigi’s neighbors,” Casimi said.

“Kadagidi!”

“Exactly so, young gentleman. One requests you please do not alarm your guests. Your breakfasts this morning will be in the formal dining room. One is also requested to inform you that Lord Tatiseigi has planned a tour through his collections this morning after breakfast, at your convenience.”

Please do not alarm your guests.

And nand’ Bren and Jase‑aiji had gone over to talk to the Kadagidi, after what had happened last night. That was about the most dangerous thing he could think of.

“What happened last night, nadi? We know about the intruders. We understand you caught them. Were they Kadagidi?”

“Dojisigi, nandi, but they had come here with the help of the Kadagidi.”

“Assassins’ Guild?” He was already sure of it. “After Great‑grandmother?”

“Their target was your great‑uncle, young gentleman. They claim to have had no idea your great‑uncle would arrive with guests. They have apologized and stated they wish to change sides. So do not trouble yourself about that business, young gentleman: they are under this roof, but under watch. Be sure they are under watch. One understands you were able to recover the parid’ja last night.”

“Yes, nadi. He came back to the window when all that happened. But–”

“Kindly be very careful to observe house security today. We are strong enough to repel any problem–granted our young guests stay inside and with you. For your Great‑grandmother’s sake–please be sure of their whereabouts at all times today.”

Casimi and his partners were such sticks.

“Yes, nadi,” Cajeiri said with a polite nod.

“Hear me, young gentleman: should you lose track of anyone, do not try to find the missing persons. Notify us and let us deal with the matter. We had two Marid Assassins living in the house garage when we arrived, and while we do not believe there are any other surprises in the house–consider any untoward occurrence a matter for us to know, immediately. Please assure me you understand this.”

In the garage. They had imagined intruders living in the basement . . . where Great‑uncle was proposing to send them today, to tour the collections.

Casimi was a stick, and Casimi probably had never forgiven him for the tricks he had played on him, getting away right past Casimi’s nose: Casimi probably thought he was a thorough brat, too; maybe even that he could be a fool.

Which was unfair. He had been months younger.

“Please do not share much of this with your guests, young gentleman. They should have a happy visit. And touring the collections will put you in a very safe part of the house today.”

“One thought we were worried about Assassins in the basement, nadi.”

“The basement has been searched very thoroughly, young gentleman. So has every room and closet in the house.”

What about the garage? he wanted to ask pointedly–but it being Casimi, who already had a bad opinion of him, he decided just to do as he was told.

“The formal dining room,” he said. “Thank you, nadi, nadiin.”

So there was nothing for it but to do as Casimi told them to do. He gave a second little bow, said, “Please tell my great‑grandmother and uncle that we are very glad they are safe, nadi,” and to his guests:

“Breakfast is in the big room. We can say more there.”

· · ·

Not that long a drive–and they were still in no great hurry about it–it was a leisurely cruise down the road. The sun was up, now, gilding the tops of dry weeds and the branches of leafing scrub. On any ordinary day, at this hour, he’d be having toast and tea and going over his mail. Right now his heart kept its own time, dreading the encounter and wishing they’d get there faster.

The bus nosed gently downward, the slope of the other side of the hill, and ran at just a little greater speed, breaking down weeds and small brush.

“Polano says there’s a structure on a hill, on the horizon,” Jase said quietly. Jase’s bodyguards had an unobstructed view out the windshield. They didn’t.

“That would be,” Bren said, “the Kadagidi manor house. Asien’dalun.”

He wished he could see the place. He urgently wished he could see what was going on, or whether there was any sign of trouble. But not seeing ahead of them was part of their protection–and he wasn’t about to get up and take a look.

Once they reached the estate, Guild protocols should swing into operation, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be met by mortar fire.

Lord Aseida, at this hour, would be having breakfast, or answering his mail, and the lord might continue at that, while his security asked, officially, using Guild short‑range communications, who was arriving. When they did arrive, the house would open the door and the major d’ would come out, with his assistant, wanting to know officially and formally, for the civilian staff, who was arriving . . . this was a matter of form, the form having been devised long before radio.

The major d’ would ask, they would answer, restating their business.

Considering the circumstances, they would likely be asked to leave–a formal request.

They weren’t going to. That message would be conveyed to Lord Aseida, who would, at that point, have two choices: send his major d’ out to talk to the offended neighbors, in which case things would proceed eventually to a civilized talk between neighbors–or–Lord Aseida would send out his bodyguard to talk to the neighbors’ bodyguards.

The temperature would go up at that point.

But they had no contact yet. In point of fact, he expected none. And the bus would keep rolling as they skipped steps in the protocols . . . and as Nawari and his team did their best not to trip any alarms or traps, from the hole in the hedge to the side door of the house itself–necessarily a careful business; and if they did have to stop for a problem–that complicated things, considerably.

Haikuti, if he was on the premises, and if he was admitting to being on the premises, would warn the bus to stop and to go back–while he’d be positioning defenses. Or possibly he’d let the bus come in, and position offenses . Whether or not the Kadagidi had already picked up movement to its northwest would dictate how and when the local bodyguard would react. A protest against an overland intrusion would certainly be in order–plus a threat to call Guild Headquarters and get the matter on official record, which the Kadagidi could make–and they didn’t dare.

“At this point,” Bren said to Jase, “it becomes a complicated dance. They’ll protest; we’ll say it’s a social visit. They may notice our people coming up overland. Then we see whether Lord Aseida comes out to talk. He should demand to talk to me–which is his job–but we don’t think it likely he’s actually speaking for himself, or that he has any power at all over his guard.”

“Haikuti.”

“Exactly. Aseida’s either so smart he’s run everything all along, even through Murini’s administration–or he’s nothing. By all I know of Haikuti, he’d have no man’chi. Not to a living soul.”

“Aiji‑like, in other words.”

“A member of the Assassins’ Guild can’t be a lord of any kind–legally. You can be in the Physicians’ Guild and happen to be lord of a province and serve in the legislature–there is actually one such. But the compact that organized the aishidi’tat drew a very careful line to keep the one guild that enforces the law entirely out of the job of making it.”

“Has it worked?”

“Yes. Until now. But we suspect Haikuti fairly well took power under Murini’s administration–and Shishoji had to move him there. How far under Shishoji’s control he is now–is a question. If anything should happen to me, I should say, tell the captains to protect Tabini, the dowager, Cajeiri, and Lord Tatiseigi. Four people. Get them up to the station if there’s no other choice. They have the people’s mandate. But one bullet can send all plans to hell.”

“God, Bren. I sincerely take what you’re saying. But just keep your head down, will you?”

“I intend to. But a little risk, unfortunately, goes with the job.”

· · ·

“So what’s going on?” Gene asked in ship‑speak, once the servants were out of the dining room. “Where’s Lord Bren? What happened last night?”

It was upsetting to be questioned during breakfast. Great‑grandmother would never approve of such behavior. But they were all at one table, Cajeiri, his bodyguards, his guests, and the mood was not at all festive.

“Nand’ Bren went to the Kadagidi,” he said, also in ship‑speak. “Next door. Lord Bren and Captain Jase, too. With Captain Jase’s guard. To talk.”

It didn’t help the frowns, and just then a servant came in with another plate of spiced eggs and toast. “We are going to walk around the basement.” Cajeiri tried to change the subject entirely during the service. “Great‑uncle’s collections are famous.”

“I wish we could go riding again,” Irene said. “If they caught those people–”

“Not that easy,” Cajeiri said. “We’re safe in the house. But still under alert.”

“For more people?”

“Not sure,” Cajeiri said. If they kept it to ship‑speak, at least the servants would not realize they were being improper. “Don’t worry. All fine. But we don’t go outside.”

“Tomorrow?” Irene asked. And unhappily: “Ever?”

“Maybe,” he said, wishing he knew the answer.

Conversation limped along. He knew ship‑speak for things on the ship, but he struggled for words about things on earth. And he had no words to explain the Kadagidi.

“Luca‑ji,” he said quietly to Lucasi, who was good at talking to senior Guild, “see what else you can find out. You can do it after breakfast.”

“Yes,” Lucasi said, swallowed two bites of toast and got up from the table, leaving a whole piece of toast and an egg on his plate.

So his bodyguard was as desperate to understand the situation as he was.

· · ·

The bus slowed to a stop. Bren took a look out the window, as much as he could see, which was scrub trees and pasturage, and a low fieldstone wall.

“We’ve come to a gate,” Jase said, having the report from Kaplan and Polano, who had the vantage up there.

“Whether they’ll open it will say something,” Bren said.

“We can take it down,” Jase said. “That’s no problem–if you need it.”

“We’ll see,” Bren said, and looked up as Banichi arrived beside his seat.

“When we get to the Kadagidi house, Bren‑ji,” Banichi said, bypassing the question of modality, “we will bring the bus as far as the front porch, at an angle where sniping from the roof is not easy.

“Jase‑nandi,–one understands the armor is good against armor‑piercing rounds?”

Jase looked at Bren, wanting translation.

Bren gave it.

“Yes,” Jase said in Ragi, and nodded. “No problem, Banichi‑nadi.” And in ship‑speak: “Rules of engagement, Bren.”

Bren translated the question.

“Fire only if fired upon,” Banichi said. “Avoid servants and civilians.”

Bren translated that, too.

“This is the plan,” Banichi said to Jase, leaning on Bren’s seat‑back. “We would ask Kaplan and Polano to go out the instant we stop, and take position to screen us from fire as we exit the bus.”

“Exit the bus,” Bren said, interrupting his translation. “Banichi‑ji–”

“If the situation calls for it, Bren‑ji, we all four will escort you out. Only if the situation calls for it. And, much as your aishid covets the honor of defending you, stay behind Jase’s bodyguards and do not go beyond one step from the bus. Your greatest danger is a sniper in the upper floors. Pay attention to that. We shall. The house will be on the right side of the bus and we will pull up close to the door to inconvenience targeting from those floors. A grenade remains a possibility. We can do nothing about that–except interest them in finding out what we have to say, and be aware whether those upstairs windows are open or shut.”

“Understood.”

“And, Bren‑ji, you will not accept an invitation to tea in this house.”

“I promise that,” he said with a startled laugh. But it did nothing for his nerves.

“The gate is opening,” Jase said in Ragi.

Banichi straightened. “So. We shall see.”

The bus started to move. The road between the gate and the Kadagidi front door was not as long a drive as that from Tatiseigi’s gate to the house. It was a gravel road, by the sound under the tires, and the bus gathered more speed than it had used thus far, not all‑out, but not losing any time, either.

“They’re going to let the bus all the way up to the house?” Jase asked. “What if we’re loaded with explosives?”

Bren shook his head. “We’re the good guys, remember. Guild regulations. A historic site, and civilians. We’re supposed to finesse the situation all the way. And of course they’re supposed to talk to us, on their side, lord to lord. If they refuse to talk to us, we have an automatic complaint–for what it’s worth.”

“This is that ‘little risk’ you were talking about. Going out there.”

“Banichi’s thinking this through. He has a reason. The dowager’s men, back there, may get off, too; and if they do, keep the aisle clear. And if things do go to hell, just get down below the windows and let the driver follow his orders, one of which is to get you out of here.”

“God, you’re insane on this planet.”

“It’s an eminently reasonable system–when you’re not dealing with scoundrels.”

“The hell.” Jase levered himself to his feet and went up to Kaplan and Polano, delivering low, quick instructions of his own. Bren couldn’t hear exactly what he said, above the noise of the bus, but Kaplan and Polano nodded solemnly more than once. Jase clapped each on the shoulder and returned to his seat, while Kaplan and Polano started putting their mirror‑faced helmets on–their smallest movements accompanied by a whining sound that rose above the roar of the bus on the gravel.

“They understand,” Jase said. “Those helmets have sensors. They can see behind the wall. Three‑sixty and overhead. They’ll know where we are and once they’ve mapped that, they’ll spot any other movement. I warned them about grenades. And snipers.”

“Is there going to be any complaint from the captains on this?” Bren asked. “Say I asked it. Urgently, I asked it.”

“Understood. And understand that they’re here to handle whatever my presence or those kids’ presence might provoke. I’d say this is partly due to my presence. For the record.”

The bus had begun the curve that would lead it right in front of the house. Bren caught a scant glimpse of the stone facade, past Jase’s men, a blockish, formal Padi Valley style manor, in situation and aspect not unlike Tirnamardi.

A fortress, in the day of cavalry attacks and short‑range cannon, with windows only on the high upper floors.

“The paidhi‑aiji and the ship‑aiji have come to call on Lord Aseida,” Bren heard Banichi say, talking on Guild communications while the bus rolled. The calm tones had a surreal quality, as if it were old territory, a scene revisited again and again. “They are guests of your next‑door neighbor the Atageini lord, and they have been personally inconvenienced by actions confessed to have originated from these grounds. These are matters far above the Guild, nadi, and regarding your lord’s status within the aishidi’tat. Advise your lord of it.”

Time to pay the rent on the estate at Najida. He’d said it. Lordships came with responsibilities.

And one didn’t give tactical orders to one’s bodyguard.

The bus gathered speed, took a gentle curve, and then ran into shadow, the Kadagidi house looming between them and the cloudless sunrise. A hedge passed the window, then a windowless expanse of pale stonework, ancient limestone, and vines, passing more and more slowly as the bus braked.

Full stop. Immediately the driver opened the door. “Go,” Jase said in ship‑speak, and Kaplan and Polano immediately took the steps, jumped from the last one and landed on their feet as if the armor weighed nothing–gyros, Bren thought distractedly. Beyond the windshield, now that they could see, and about a bus length ahead, were low, rounded steps, a single open door, and black‑uniformed Kadagidi Guild arriving outside to meet them with rifles in hand.

But the Kadagidi reaction stopped on those steps. What the Guildsmen saw facing them beside that bus door, the world had never seen. That was certain. Kaplan and Polano had taken up position, mirror‑faced, tall, and bulky, atevi‑scale and then some.

“Bren‑ji, come,” Banichi said, from beside Bren’s seat.

He didn’t stop to analyze. He flung himself up and went behind Banichi and Jago as they passed, with Tano and Algini bringing up the rear. Jase himself might be visible to those on the steps, through the front window–but the rest of their company stayed out of sight, crouched among the rear seats . . . he had seen that as he got up.

Banichi and Jago alighted on the gravel drive. Bren grabbed the assisting rail and landed beside them, followed by Tano and Algini, all behind the white wall that was Kaplan and Polano.

Banichi, rifle in the crook of his arm, stepped out from cover alone.

“Are those alive?” the senior confronting them called out from the porch steps.

“These are the ship‑aiji’s personal bodyguard,” Banichi answered. “And the ship‑aiji is present on the bus. Be warned. These two ship‑folk understand very little Ragi. Make no move that they might misinterpret. The paidhi‑aiji and the ship‑aiji have come to talk to your lord, and request he come outdoors for the meeting.”

“Our lord will protest this trespass!”

“Your lord will be free to do that at his pleasure,” Banichi retorted. “But advise him that the paidhi‑aiji is here on behalf of Tabini‑aiji, speaking for his minor son and for the aiji‑dowager, the ship‑aiji, and his son’s foreign guests, minor children, all of whom were disturbed last night by Guild Assassins who have named your estate as their route into Lord Tatiseigi’s house.”

Banichi had them. Legally. There was a decided pause on the other side, a consultation.

“We will relay the matter to our lord,” the Kadagidi said. “Wait.”

A man left, through the door to the inside of the house. That left the unit on the steps facing them, but without direct threat, rifles down, and there seemed some remote chance of getting Lord Aseida out here on the steps–in which case there would be some use for the paidhi‑aiji, and some chance, if Haikuti was not here, to argue the Kadagidi lord into an act of common sense– if there was a chance Lord Aseida wanted to get out of the predicament he was in.

Cast himself and his clan on the aiji’s mercy–if there was any way he dared walk away from the guards on the steps and board the bus. If they could detach Aseida from his bodyguards and get him under the dowager’s protection, they might have a source of information, a sure bet in any legislative hearing, and they could stabilize the Kadagidi for–at least a few years, so long as the fear lasted. That was what they could do if Aseida would walk out here and tell his guards to go back inside.

Beyond that remote chance–if Aseida refused the request to talk, the paidhi‑aiji still had a job to do: take charge, and keep the company on the porch distracted and arguing, while Nawari probed the house defenses and found out whether the Kadagidi intended the Dojisigi to survive their return to the Kadagidi house–or not.

He was overshadowed on every hand, too short, behind Kaplan and Polano, in their white, faceless suits, to get a good look at the company on the porch. His bodyguard loomed head and shoulders above him.

They waited.

Another Guild unit came out that door and brusquely joined the first–a unit which could be Aseida’s personal bodyguard. The senior of that group exuded a force of presence and, God! an anger foreign to the Guild, a hard‑faced man, absolute and furious as he had ever seen any man–except Tabini.

Aiji, was what the nerves said.

Haikuti. He had never seen so much as a photo of the man–but he had no doubt.

“Banichi!” that man shouted, swinging his rifle upward.

Banichi moved. In a time‑stretched instant, Haikuti went backward, Banichi spun and went down, bullets hit the bus, and a buffeting shock went through the ground. Grenade, Bren thought, finding himself falling. It had all gone wrong. Banichi was on the ground right in front of him, moving, but dazedly.

Bren lurched forward, grabbed Banichi’s jacket, and pulled with everything he had, dragging Banichi back toward cover, aware that Jago and Tano and Algini had gone past him.

In the next moment the dowager’s men poured out of the bus past him, dodging him and Banichi as they charged past Kaplan and Polano. Gunfire went off inside the building. And Banichi moved, got a hand on the bus step and started to get up, while Bren was sitting on the ground.

Other pale hands arrived to help haul Banichi up. Jase had come to help, and was giving orders to Kaplan and Polano to stand fast. Banichi got a knee under him.

“Stay down, stay down,” Bren said, with a hand on Banichi’s arm.

Banichi took a breath, got one hand on the communications earpiece that had fallen from his ear and put it back, listened, on one knee, and said something in code, the three of them sheltered behind Jase’s steadfast bodyguard.

“Get aboard the bus,” Banichi said. There was a hole blown in Banichi’s jacket, exposing the bulletproof fabric, and blood.

“ You get aboard,” Bren said. “You were hit, Banichi.”

“He,” Banichi said, looking toward the stone steps of the porch. Bren looked, past armor‑cased legs. The stonework was shattered and black‑uniformed bodies lay every which way.

“ He went down,” Bren said, looking back at Banichi. “You hit him. They fired. Jase’s guard fired, and if anything else came from our direction it was ricochets.” If Banichi had to ask the sequence of events, he had been hit hard, and he did not want Banichi to get up and go staggering into the house.

“If it got him,” Banichi said, “good.” He did gain his feet, grabbed Bren’s hand and hauled him up as if he weighed nothing. Then he leaned back against the bus to check the bracelet and listen to communications. “Nawari’s group is arriving,” Banichi said. “Jase. Allies to the west. Tell Kaplan and Polano.”

Bren repeated that in ship‑speak, to be sure–east and west were not concepts Kaplan and Polano knew operationally, and Jase relayed it in ship‑speak and coordinates.

“They understand,” Jase said. “They’ve adjusted their autofire to that fact.”

Gunfire broke out somewhere beyond the house. He heard servos whine as Kaplan and Polano simultaneously reoriented.

“Ours,” Banichi said instantly.

Jase said, “Hold fire, hold fire. Rules of engagement still hold. Fire only if fired on.”

“Stay here,” Banichi said. “Get on the bus, Bren‑ji, Jase‑nandi. Now. ”

They had become a distraction. Banichi was linking the operations together, Nawari’s group coming in overland, the ones that were behind the house, and in the house.

“Get aboard,” Bren said to Jase. “Keep Kaplan and Polano where they are–Guild can tell each other apart. We can’t. And they can’t.”

The bus was still running. The driver still had the door open. Jase grabbed the assisting rail and climbed the steps, and Bren followed close behind him, hoping Banichi would stay where he was, behind Kaplan and Polano, and direct matters from there, but by the time Bren had gotten to the first seats and turned around, Banichi had crossed open ground to the side of the house, and along the way, had gathered up his rifle.

Bren put his hand in his pocket, felt the gun in place. He planted a knee in the seat and looked outward. Banichi was on the steps, taking a closer look at one of the fallen.

“That was the one you were after?” Jase asked. “The one Banichi got?”

“If we’re lucky,” Bren said.

Banichi! that one had said and fired.

So had Banichi.

They’d known each other by sight, at least. But that anger . . . that instant reaction . . .

How, when they had known each other, he had no idea. But he had that impression.

He watched Banichi go into the house.

“Nandiin,” the driver said, “there is still resistance in the house. One believes they may be attempting to destroy information. We are moving to prevent it.”

“One hears, nadi,” he said. The driver was Guild–linked into communications and willing to tell them what was going on. That was unprecedented. Banichi’s arrangement, he thought . . . with the hope of keeping him in his seat.

The windshield was starred with a bullet scar. Simultaneous as it had been–the other side had fired first. He’d swear to it. Damned right he’d swear to it. Kaplan and Polano had fired when fired on.

The renegades had not followed Guild rules, had not called for a standstill and consultation with Guild authority.

They had done everything by the book–and the Shadow Guild hadn’t, damn them. The carnage on the porch, terrible as it had been, was thanks to that. There was no need for so many to be dead. It wasn’t the way the Guild had operated, before the Shadow Guild had tried to take the rules back to the dark ages, the clan wars, the days of cavalry, pikes, and wholesale bloodshed. Atevi had climbed out of that age the hard way, before humans had ever arrived in the heavens. It was their common sense, the Assassins’ Guild was their solution, and the Shadow Guild was doing their damnedest to unravel it.

Suddenly Kaplan and Polano reoriented, machinelike and simultaneous, toward the windows above. Bren ducked down to see what they were looking at, could not spot it.

“A man in an upstairs window,” Jase said, with a better view. “Waving and shouting.”

That would not be Guild. And they must not harm civilians. The bus door was shut, cutting off sounds from outside. Bren shoved himself out of his seat, Jase right with him, and ordered the door open, trusting to Kaplan and Polano for protection.

He got to the bottom step and looked up. The man was dressed as a servant, and seeing him, waved furiously, shouting down, “My lord requests respect for the premises! My lord requests assistance!”

“A house servant,” Bren said for Jase: the Padi Valley accent was thick. “Speaking for Lord Aseida.” He called up to the man: “Can you come down, nadi? Come to the front entry. You will be safe! We–”

A shot hit the folded bus door. Kaplan and Polano fired, robot‑quick, before Bren could react and recoil. He had felt his hair move; he had felt a sting in his cheek; and then thunder blew past him. He blinked, and saw the window at the building corner–missing, along with the masonry around it.

The window from which the servant had called to them was undamaged. But empty.

Sensors. A sniper in a window up there in the corner room. He stared for a few heartbeats. Jase was hauling him back by the arm. He moved in compliance, backed up the steps, still looking up in disbelief.

“Nadi,” he said to the driver. “Advise those inside. Sniper strike, building corner, top floor. Jase’s guard just took them out.”

“Nandi,” the driver said calmly, and relayed that information.

Bren said: “Lord Aseida’s possible location is also the third floor, third window, next to the missing one.” His cheek stung. He touched it, bringing away bloody fingertips. Not a real wound. There might be a splinter of some sort. He was disgusted with himself. “My fault, standing there. Sorry, Jase.”

“Your local problems don’t miss an opportunity,” Jase said. “Sit down. Let me look at that.”

He sat. Jase looked, probed it, shook his head. “Not too bad.”

“Missed my head,” he said, and sucked in a deep breath, mad at himself, and now he second‑guessed his sending information into the house. He hoped his information wouldn’t draw his people into some sort of trap. About Lord Aseida’s rescue, he didn’t at the moment give a damn. “My bodyguard’s going to say a few words about my going out there.”

“Nandiin,” the driver said. “They acknowledge. They say keep inside.”

“Assure them we are aboard,” he said, with an idea who had said keep inside.

There were medical kits aboard, a small one in the overhead storage, a larger one in the forward baggage compartment. He got up and got a small bandage to stop the cut from bleeding; but they were, he thought, unhappily apt to need the larger one before all was done, and he was not going out there.

Things grew quieter. He became aware he was no longer hearing gunfire through the insulation of the bus.

“They have located the lord and his servants, nandiin,” the driver said.

“Good,” he said. Then the driver said:

“Lord Aseida requests to speak with the paidhi‑aiji. They will be bringing him down.”

He was not, at the moment, enthusiastic about dealing with Aseida. His cheek was throbbing and he was developing a headache–those were the sum of his stupidity‑induced injuries; and he could certainly do his job past that discomfort, but all of a sudden he felt entirely rattled. It seemed a crushing responsibility, to get the necessary dealings right, to react, knowing the record would be gone over and gone over by political enemies. His people had risked their necks to get the renegades identified and removed–everything had worked. They’d gotten their chance, and they’d made the most of it. He couldn’t give the opposition a loophole in his own sphere of responsibility . . .

Most of all he couldn’t give Assignments’ allies in high places in the Guild any excuse to charge a misdeed to Tabini’s account, and the station’s. Aseida was not, counting the damage to his house, going to be an asset.

He was rattled, he thought, by that trifling hit. He drew deep breaths, steadying down, getting control back.

The exchange of gunfire was over. He wanted to know his people were all right, and that the dowager’s were, that first. Lord Aseida, already under ban, was not in charge of events now. No. Only the aiji could unseat Aseida, and he had the excuse Tabini needed.

“Whatever Aseida is,” he said to Jase, “he’s representative of a major clan, a lot of people, a lot of connections, historic and otherwise. He’s a patch‑together sort of lord–the clan’s lost one after the other–but he’s what they’ve got, all they’ve got. Banned from court. They couldn’t let him into the Bujavid, for security reasons. Most of all, they couldn’t let his bodyguard in. He’s alive. And we’re going to keep him that way. His own allies probably won’t like that.”

“They are bringing out the casualties first, nandiin,” the driver said.

He got up to look out the bullet‑starred windshield. Jase stood behind him. He saw, one after the other, three of the dowager’s men helped down the shattered steps by comrades, all ambulatory. Thank God.

He asked the driver the question he dreaded to ask, “Have we lost anyone, nadi?”

“No, nandi,” the driver said. “We have not. All are accounted for. Six injured, none critically.”

He drew a deep breath and let it go slowly. He saw Banichi, conspicuous by his stature, walking under his own power, but with his right hand tucked inside his open jacket. He saw Jago, walking beside Banichi. And, escorted by two of the dowager’s men, a young man in blue brocade came out the door, hesitating at the broken steps and the dreadful sight there, and trailed by two agitated servants.

Aseida.

Time to risk his head a second time, going out there in the courtesy due the Kadagidi lord? He didn’t think so. The mess was Aseida’s and he didn’t owe it courtesy.

He stood where he was. He waited until the driver opened the door, and he was there to meet Banichi and Jago as they came up the steps.

He didn’t embarrass Banichi with inquiries, and Banichi delivered his report in two sentences: “We have the house secure. The lord requests to speak with you.”

“Shall I go down?” Bren asked.

Banichi frowned at him, perhaps noticing the new bandage on his cheek. “Lord Aseida can come aboard,” Banichi said, “under the circumstances. He is requesting Atageini assistance to secure the premises.”

Things had shifted immensely in the last hour. The Kadagidi‑Atageini feud had gone on, intermittent with periods of alliance, for centuries.

Now the Atageini were being invited in–preferable to the Taibeni, likely.

Bren shot a look toward Jago, who had smudges of pale ash on her chin and cheek, and a bleeding scrape on her hand. He was overwhelmingly glad to see her and Banichi both in one piece. “Tano and Algini, nadiin‑ji?”

“They are supervising the document recovery,” Jago said. “The servants attempted to destroy records. We stopped that.”

Records were involved. That was very good news.

The servants being at the business of destroying them, while the front porch was exploding–was peculiar, and spoke volumes about the character of the Kadagidi servants.

And the Kadagidi lord was standing at the bus door, with his two valets, waiting for his permission. “Come up, nandi,” he said, “without your servants.” He saw the frown and gave back one of his own. “Your servants may stay with the premises, under the watch of the guard we set here. You, on the other hand, may come aboard and make whatever request for protection you wish, and I shall relay it to your neighbor Lord Tatiseigi, to the aiji‑dowager, and ultimately to the aiji in Shejidan. Be aware, since one does not believe your bodyguard adequately reported to you, that a ship‑aiji is with us. It is his bodyguard outside. Your bodyguard, sadly, fired on them. So did someone from your upper windows.”

Aseida turned and looked up. His mouth opened. He turned back with an angry expression.

“These are historic premises!”

“Fire came, in a ship‑aiji’s presence, at a ship‑aiji’s bodyguard, from your historic premises, nandi. And one strongly suggests that you give no more such orders!”

“I did not order it!” Aseida protested. “I gave no such order!”

Bren backed up a step, in invitation. “Then you would be wise to come aboard, nandi, and explain to Jase‑aiji just who did order it.”

18

They were all down in the basement of Uncle’s house, which might have been an interesting place to visit, except the circumstances reminded Cajeiri all too vividly of the basement at Najida, where they had had to go because of the attack on the house.

Only this time mani had chosen to stay upstairs with Cenedi and Casimi. Cajeiri was sure that was because Cenedi was in contact with Banichi and nand’ Bren and possibly Nawari. Very serious things were going on that his guests were not supposed to know about, and since he was the only one who could talk to them– he was obliged to act as if everything was perfectly ordinary.

Nothing in fact was ordinary. Great‑uncle, who had never in his life approved of humans, had come down himself to guide not just children, but human children on a tour through his clan’s most precious things. And they had security with them, of course, two of Great‑uncle’s, and all of his own aishid–which meant, of course, that he could not have them upstairs trying to find out things.

Great‑uncle had begun by pointing out the beautiful porcelains, and talked at length about glazes in terms Cajeiri struggled to translate at all–though his guests were all very polite about it and nodded in proper places, seeming impressed by the porcelains, and the pictures, and the fact people had painted them a long time ago.

And once, when Irene’s eyes grew wide and damp and she whispered How beautiful, in very careful Ragi, Great‑uncle did a very strange thing and actually opened a case and took out a cup and let her hold it for a moment before putting it back behind glass.

They came to another door, and Great‑uncle, his face very blank, ordered lamps brought and the lights turned off, and for a moment Cajeiri forgot all about nand’ Bren and the Kadagidi, as the great double door opened, and huge eyes glimmered in the flickering light. Claws reached. Fangs glistened. Irene gave a great squeal, and pressed up against Gene, who laughed and put his arm her and swore, quite loudly, that he would protect her.

More than that, Great‑uncle . . . smiled.

That . . . was scarier than the taxidermied creatures.

But Great‑uncle did not insist the tour continue in the dark for which Cajeiri was glad. It had been a surprise, and his guests had enjoyed it, but somehow ambush in the dark seemed just a little too real this morning.

So he was glad when Great‑uncle ordered the main lights turned back on and proceeded to show them the ferocious taxidermied beasts in his father’s father’s collection, creatures Cajeiri had only seen in drawings. His guests were excited and amazed and so was he. There was a legless reptile as big as a man, all coiled up and threatening, almost as good as a dinosaur. There was ornate old armor that was real, not made for machimi. There were swords and spears that probably had killed people, which was a sobering thought.

There were lots and lots of really interesting things to see, aisles and aisles as crowded as the warehouses under the Bujavid, and he found himself going for whole periods of time without thinking about the people they had caught in the garage, and how they had been afraid there might be Assassins in the basement.

Besides, they had their bodyguards. And from here on they had the lights on, bright as day, where they were, though it was scary to look off through doorways into sections where they had been, that were dark now, or sections where they had not yet been, which were a little more ominous.

They came to dull spots: there were, in one nook, rows of plain brown pottery that looked like nothing at all–until Great‑uncle said was the first pottery ever made in the Padi Valley–which, Great‑uncle said showed that the Atageini ancestors had come from the south coast a long, long time ago, thousands of years ago, in fact. Uncle said the Scholars could tell all sorts of relationships because of the way the pots were made and the patterns on them, because the ancient peoples had particular ways of doing things, even particular ways to make a pot.

Cajeiri had not known that, himself, and for a moment he forgot about the trouble outside, in a flight of imagination about his own Atageini ancestry being from the coast where Lord Geigi and nand’ Bren had their estates. It was almost like being related.

Artur got right up close, not enough to touch, but staring at the details, and he asked questions about the differences he saw, which Cajeiri translated, and Uncle was quite pleased to talk about those differences . . . though Uncle had an amazing good sense about getting them back to collections of fierce fish, with amazing teeth.

But in the intervals, the grim thoughts came back: there was real danger coming near the house, which was never supposed to happen in historic premises like Tirnamardi, with so many ancient, precious, fragile things. Cajeiri knew, he was sure, why they were being kept down here–he had been through shelling. And he very much hoped mani was in some sort of a safe place, too, and especially he hoped that they were going to hear something from nand’ Bren soon–

He hoped that there would not, not, he hoped, be gunfire, or grenades or people sneaking up on the house to do mischief.

And that there were not accesses down here in the basement that could have ambush waiting in one of the rooms.

They went on to a different part of the basement, where lights went on, and there were cabinets and cabinets of record books. It was records going back hundreds of years, Great‑uncle said, showing them books bound in leather so old it was flaking, and Irene said she wished she knew enough Ragi to read them.

Had they been scanned into a computer, she asked, in case something should happen to them?

He didn’t translate that part. He didn’t think Great‑uncle would like that idea, not this morning. “I shall ask him that later,” he told Irene.

Beyond that place, in another room, a dimly lit display case held a skeleton of a person that Great‑uncle said was thousands and thousands of years old. They had dug him up on the grounds, when they had built the house, and the broken pots around him were what he had been buried with.

That was a scary place. That was a real dead person. Cajeiri did not want to linger there.

“Can you tell anything,” he whispered to Lucasi, while his guests crowded close to the case. “Is there anything going on the house network?”

“They have us cut off completely, nandi,” Lucasi said. “We cannot pick up anything at all, not even routine things.”

There were two Guild Assassins locked up somewhere in the house, maybe down here in the basement, right near them.

And he could not forget the sight of Kaplan and Polano suited up and looking like nothing the earth had ever seen. It was a sight from the ship–walking down the stairs of Great‑uncle’s house. And it was all crazy.

Nand’ Bren was going to try to talk to the Kadagidi and get an accounting for those two Assassins, apparently, and maybe warn them they were in trouble.

Nand’ Bren had gone right in and talked to Lord Machigi, in the Taisigin Marid, and gotten an agreement with him, which nobody would ever think could happen. So if anybody could talk to the Kadagidi, nand’ Bren might.

But the way they were keeping everything secret, putting them down in the basement, and not letting his guard know anything, he was getting more and more anxious about what the Kadagidi were doing.

He hoped he had not invited his guests down for all of them to get in the middle of a war.

On his last birthday they had started a war.

They had had the whole Najida business just weeks ago.

And here it was his birthday and they were going to start another war.

It just was not fair, was the childish thought that surfaced; but there was so much more at issue than fairness, now. He wanted everyone safe. He wanted the world not to have selfishness, and stupidity. And it was bound to have. But he wanted not to have it in places where it could do so much damage.

He heard footsteps in the room behind them, which was no longer dark. The head of Great‑uncle’s bodyguard had come downstairs. He overtook them and called Uncle aside to talk to him, while they were in the room with the skeleton in the case. They waited, all of them, while Great‑uncle talked, and now none of his guests were looking at the display. They were all looking at Uncle and three of his bodyguards, now.

And given all that had gone on in the house last night and this morning, they would be really stupid if they did not figure out there was something wrong.

Gene moved over close to him. “What’s going on?” Gene whispered in ship‑speak. “What’s happening?”

He could not lie directly. “Trouble,” he said quietly. “Nand’ Bren and Jase‑aiji went next door. Bad people. The Kadagidi.”

“Something to do with last night?” Artur asked, at Gene’s shoulder. Irene just looked worried.

“Next door–” He did not have the right words in ship‑speak. “Trouble with the Kadagidi. A long time.”

The bodyguard went back down the hall. Great‑uncle turned to them and said, “My staff may continue the tour this afternoon, young gentleman, if you wish. There is some little more to see. Some business has come up, and I must go upstairs. Nephew, please have your bodyguard escort you back to the stairs at your leisure. You may bring your guests up to the breakfast room and enjoy refreshments.”

“Great‑uncle.” The bow was automatic, while his brain was racing. What was it? Was everything all right now? They were being let out of the cellar and offered lunch alone, with no grown‑ups.

But was the trouble over?

Great‑uncle and his bodyguard went ahead of them through the basement, headed up the stairs and left them with just his bodyguard for guides.

“What did he say?” Gene whispered urgently. “Jeri, what just happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know. Lunch, is all. If it were bad I think they’d want us to stay downstairs.” He hoped his bodyguard remembered the way out.

But they did. They went back through the rooms fairly quickly, the lights going on and off as they passed through, not too far behind Great‑uncle. They went upstairs and out the door, to a little alcove in the main hall. Great‑uncle and his guard were still ahead of them, on their way toward the sitting room, where one would easily bet Great‑grandmother was.

The breakfast room was a little distance away from that.

“Is that an all‑clear?” Jegari asked suddenly. He was looking at his bracelet, the same sort that most Guild wore.

“Yes,” Veijico said, looking at her bracelet. “Nandi, we are receiving again.”

· · ·

Kadagidi fortunes had certainly sunk today. That was clear in the bedraggled, soot‑stained person of the Kadagidi lord, who had to negotiate with intruders on his clan’s territory, in a bus sitting on his land.

“We do not surrender,” Aseida had said first, frayed and rattled as he was, once he stood aboard. “We appeal to the paidhiin to prevent damage to our estate. We are innocent of all offense!”

Ship‑paidhi. Jase was that.

Innocent , however, had been an interesting claim.

So was Aseida’s insistence on addressing Jase by his lesser, onworld title.

Let him, Bren had thought, showing him to the first of the seats, arranged as the first rows were, in facing pairs, with a let‑down table.

Let him spill whatever he wants of his thinking, his views, his presumptions.

He hadn’t let down that table. He wanted full view of Aseida’s hands. He had Jase sitting beside him. Kaplan and Polano had come aboard, and, unable to sit in the armor, they had taken their places again beside the driver, in front of the damaged windshield.

“We were betrayed,” Lord Aseida had said for openers. “We were forced by Murini‑aiji’s bodyguard. We never wanted the man’chi of that aishid. They attached to me when I was a child, and I had no choice in the matter.”

The account went on and on, somewhat incoherently, if interestingly.

It did follow one scenario they had surmised–that there had been an unusually strong Guild presence in the house before and during Murini’s sojourn in the Dojisigin Marid; that the bodyguard that had escorted the usurper into exile and died with him had not been Haikuti’s team, no, they had stayed constantly in the house, and, well, perhaps, Aseida thought, possibly had contact with others about the region, but they always had that.

Definitely Haikuti and that aishid had not gone down to the Marid with Murini, before the coup, nor had they conspicuously stood beside him in his ascent to power, though they had been physically with him during some of his administration.

But they had been Aseida’s aishid for years. How assigned? Clearly by Shishoji, who had held his office through more decades than that.

The records that had accumulated in the house during Murini’s tenure possibly still existed, among those they had confiscated within the Kadagidi estate.

But now they had, indeed, very interesting things pouring out: a Kadagidi lord, the very person involved, claiming that Haikuti had taken over the household, that Haikuti had effectively run the clan by threat and intimidation, possibly using Murini as a puppet–and that he, Aseida, was innocent as the spring rains.

The paidhi’s job, however, was a good deal easier than Aseida’s, who had to explain what the situation had been, a lot of it unlovely, and precisely how he was innocent.

“Do not accuse us,” Aseida said hotly, at one point. “We had no way to respond to you. It was you who elected to come onto Kadagidi land, with these men dressed as machines, it was you who called out my guard and blew a hole in an ancient house. Who is my neighbor to send humans and machines to attack us, on the charges that we aided an attack on Tirnamardi? You have fired without judgment and damaged historic premises! You have shattered treasures older than your presence on this earth! You had no right to come here and fire on us!”

“We were fired upon,” Bren said with careful patience.

“That is your word, paidhi, after you have killed all the witnesses! One side’s word is no proof before the law!”

“Is he saying we fired first?” Jase asked.

“That’s what he’s saying. He’s saying we can’t prove it legally, because we have no witness from his side surviving.”

Jase shook his head. “He’s wrong. The armor’s been recording everything. Audio. Video. Three‑sixty‑degrees and overhead, ever since they put the systems live, which was the moment we drove through that gate. Our regs say when we have weapons go live–we record it until they shut down.”

Bren drew in a deep breath. Smiled deliberately at Aseida. “Jase‑aiji notes that we have it recorded who fired first. Video, nandi. Video and audio. Just like television. You can slow it down and know exactly what happened first.”

Aseida’s face changed.

“And since we’re citing the law, nandi, let me remind you that when you attack, a person’s response may be at his level. I am the lord of Najida and Lord of the Heavens. Jase is a ship‑aiji. Your bodyguards fired on this bus. Twice. If Jase‑aiji had responded with everything he has, the damage, I assure you, would have been far more than a corner of your building and its front steps. As for my other office, as paidhi‑aiji, let me remind you I do not merely represent the offended parties in last night’s events: I represent Tabini‑aiji, who would observe, were he here, that you have placed yourself at considerable disadvantage in any dealings with your neighbors and indeed, with him . You have attacked the aiji‑dowager. You have attacked the aiji’s son, a minor child. You have attacked his guests, minor children, and citizens under Jase‑aiji’s protection. You have attacked your neighbor Lord Tatiseigi.”

“Not I! I had nothing to do with it! It was Haikuti! Haikuti did as he pleased! There was no way I could have prevented him!”

“You claim you were under duress?”

“Constantly.”

“Yet,” he said, “yet, lacking a corroborating witness, nandi, it is impossible to prove that you ever desired to go against these persons. Certainly at some point you made a very bad bargain with them, perhaps, indeed, to keep yourself alive and comfortable–”

“To keep my staff alive, nandi, and to preserve our house!”

“Yet do we know your staff themselves are pure, and will not turn on you? My aishid found them trying to destroy records in the security office, which, whatever the crisis, is rarely the job of domestic staff.”

A silence ensued.

“Tell me,” Bren said softly, “nandi. How confident would you be at this point, in committing yourself and your house to your current staff, after their certain suspicion that you have unburdened yourself to us aboard this bus? One would suspect, by the behavior of those servants, that they are not altogether innocent, either. I would rather expect that, if this matter is argued in court, there will certainly be some among them to testify–as your surviving witnesses–but who knows what they may say? That you compelled them?”

Aseida was not at the moment master of his expressions. His eyes twitched when he considered his possible answers.

“Suppose that we installed you back in your house this hour and left the servants to resume their duties. Would you have any personal apprehension?”

Far from master of his expressions.

Bren asked: “Are you more afraid of those within Haikuti’s instruction–or of reprisals from those who were not under his influence?”

“There are none outside his influence, paidhi.”

“Not a one, nandi?”

“No. No. There is not.”

“Then you have rather an unhappy situation, nandi, were I to send you back to your house at this hour–because I would certainly discourage your traveling south, say, to the Marid at this point. Startling things have happened there, early this morning. And one does not suppose you would care to lodge in one of your own townships–lacking your bodyguards. In fact yours is a sad case, Lord Aseida. Have all Kadagidi been happy with Haikuti’s direction?”

Aseida started to answer, and faltered, perhaps becoming aware how he was being led.

“Are there none you would trust,” Bren asked, “on either side of Haikuti’s influence?”

“The ones who would support me would have no chance against Haikuti’s people.”

“That is probably true,” Bren said. He and Jase were no longer interviewing Aseida alone. Tano and Algini had come aboard, Algini seated and Tano standing, on the other side of the aisle. “So yours is an unfortunate situation, nandi. What would you wish to do now?”

“I appeal to Lord Tatiseigi,” Aseida said, as if the words were stuck in his throat. “He is honest. He is my neighbor. The Padi Valley is not like other places.”

“Without staff, without bodyguard, and without alliances, nandi, you are in a very desperate situation. But you do recognize that.”

The chin stiffened, brows drew down. Aseida finally located his backbone. “The Padi Valley is different, I say, paidhi‑aiji. We have traditions. We are the old blood. We stick together.”

“I shall certainly convey your request to him, nandi. You wish, then, to apply to Lord Tatiseigi’s hospitality.”

“I so wish,” Aseida said, jaw clenching hard. “He will understand.”

“Undoubtedly,” Bren said, very tempted to cast a look at Algini to see how he had read the man; but he refrained.

They had given first aid to the injured while he conducted his interview with Aseida, both their own, from the two parties, and also to a Kadagidi servant who had suffered a broken arm in the upstairs hall. They had given two servants permission to take that man on to the hospital in the township, by Lord Aseida’s van. They had packed boxes of interesting documents into the baggage compartment, and they were putting the estate under Guild seal, meaning it and its historic treasures would be strictly guarded until there was some judgment about the clan leadership–a temporary duty for Nawari and the party that had come in overland–they would, Algini said, have relief coming in from the Taibeni on Lord Tatiseigi’s estate truck. “Time to get underway,” he said to Jase. “Get this situation back to safer ground . . . get in contact with Tabini and get his seal on the house as well, under the circumstances, where we don’t have a video record.” He changed to Ragi. “Kindly take charge, Gini‑ji.”

He wanted to be back in Atageini territory, with the documents they had recovered. He wanted to get the Kadagidi lord off his hands and under the dowager’s authority.

He wanted to know the dowager and Cajeiri were as safe as they could make them.

And most of all he wanted to know how Banichi was faring. Banichi had gone back to the bus’s galley, he had said, for a cold drink, a painkiller, and a rest in the rearmost seats. The aisle, given most of the dowager’s men were staying to assist Nawari, was all but vacant between them. He walked back toward Banichi and Jago, and was reassured to see that Banichi finally had the ruined jacket off and a proper bandage on the arm. “Lord Aseida is appealing to Lord Tatiseigi for protection. He says he can trust no one of his people. How are you faring, Nichi‑ji?”

“Bruises,” Banichi said grimly. “Nothing broken, no deep wound. Nothing to worry about.”

He shot a look at Jago, who sent one back, confirming Bren’s instincts–that it was something more than the physical injury that had put such a grim expression on Banichi’s face.

“You cannot possibly doubt,” he said quietly, “that you are in the right, Nichi‑ji.”

Banichi gave him a surprised, wide‑open look. “One in no wise doubts that, Bren‑ji.”

“One wishes you to be sure of it,” he said.

More than acquaintances, that man and Banichi. Every instinct he had said so.

A man whose skill Banichi had rated very highly.

With a team probably of the same caliber, and a second team that had been first out of the house.

No one had survived what Jase’s bodyguard had thrown at that porch. But he knew Banichi’s return fire had been a killing shot. He had seen it hit. It was branded in his memory–before the world had exploded.

Before two renegade Guild units whose opinion it was that humans were not a good influence . . . had been blown to hell by human weapons.

Confirm for Banichi that his shot had in fact taken Haikuti out before the world blew up?

Not without knowing exactly what that relationship had been.

· · ·

The bus, with a damaged windshield and a bullet marring its door, pulled up to the front of Lord Tatiseigi’s house, stopped, and opened the door with a soft pneumatic sigh.

Bren gathered himself up as Jase and Aseida did. Banichi and Jago came forward to escort Lord Aseida off the bus. They all got down, followed by Tano and Algini, preceded by Kaplan and Polano.

Servants opened both doors atop the tall steps. Lord Tatiseigi came out onto the porch, forewarned at the very last moment and frowning like thunder . . . not an entirely comfortable welcome for the Kadagidi lord as he stepped onto the cobbled driveway.

“I request lodging,” Aseida said, “nandi, if you will be so gracious.”

“Gracious, is it?” Tatiseigi shot back, looking down from the top step. “After the events of last night?”

“Asien’dalun has suffered utter calamity in the conflict of one faction of the Guild against another. We have in no wise–”

“We are not a faction,” Banichi’s low voice cut in. “Make no such claims against the legitimate Guild, Kadagidi lord. You have supported renegades against the Assassins’ Guild, you have supported outlaws, those protecting you fired first, and any damage done is the result of your own choices.”

Aseida stood there stammering slightly, confused and angry and, if he was sane, deeply afraid at this point. He made a small gesture toward Lord Tatiseigi. “We appeal to the Atageini. These Guild renegades forced themselves on us. They threatened our lives. They forced their way in even before Murini’s time, they stayed on against our will, and we have no doubt they will attempt to kill us to prevent us telling what we saw. If these are indeed legitimate Guild–and I believe they are, nadi!” He shot a nervous glance aside at Banichi, and back to Tatiseigi. “Have consideration, nandi! Extend your protection to a neighbor of the Padi Valley!”

“I have guests,” Tatiseigi said coldly, “guests who have nothing to do with your bad choices and the problems of Kadagidi clan, nandi. Foreign children as well as a ship‑aiji who are guests under my roof have been threatened and alarmed by acts of outright lawlessness, the paidhi‑aiji, another guest, is inconvenienced, and, we see, even injured while protesting the situation on your estate! The heir to the aishidi’tat, my relative, is affronted by your actions and embarrassed by the threat to his personal guests! And the aiji‑dowager, my guest, who I assure you has no patience with this situation, is irate beyond measure!”

“If Kadagidi goes down, you will lose the most ancient member of your own association, nandi! We strengthen each other! We are the first of associations, powerful in council–”

“One begs to remind you, your previous treason has disgraced the association and barred you from court! All you can contribute is the stain of your fingers on any action the Padi Valley Association might take!”

“Unfair, nandi!”

“Unfair? Your situation is consequent of a chain of decisions stretching back to your predecessors and culminating in your kinsman Murini the traitor–whose murderous administration of the aishidi’tat alienated all your neighbors and offended the peace of the heavens and the earth alike! You have the effrontery to seek shelter in my house . . . when I would be within my rights to lock you in the deepest cellar Tirnamardi affords and feed you on grain and bitter herbs until I have you before the association itself!” Tatiseigi drew a deep breath. “But unlike your allies, who fire on civilians and attack children and servants, I regard the laws of the aishidi’tat. I shall appeal my grievances against you directly to the aiji in Shejidan, if his grandmother does not File on you first. And should trouble come to my doorstep on your account, I shall hold you further responsible! Give him over to my bodyguard, nandiin. If he wants protection, we shall take charge of him!”

Tatiseigi’s temper was well‑known, and this time directed at the truly deserving. Tatiseigi snapped his fingers, and his two senior bodyguards took charge of the man and bundled him right back onto the bus.

“Well!” Tatiseigi said in satisfaction, and to the servants standing by. “The bus will need immediate cleaning, nadiin. The dowager has need of it. But, Jase‑aiji, nand’ Bren, we are dismayed. Are these all that have survived with you?”

“One rejoices to report no losses on our side at all, nandi,” Bren said. “The renegades were not so favored. None survived in that house, except the servants.” It was as politely as he could put the terrible business on the front porch, and at the back of the building as well, by what he had since heard. “The dowager’s men and some of your own guard and allies will secure the place until more reinforcements can arrive, and I understand we shall send for them.”

“You shall have whatever you need, as quickly as we can provide it. Come in, come in.” Tatiseigi started up the steps, and they walked with him, bodyguards and all. “Is Asien’dalun truly missing a section of its walls?”

“A large window and part of a corner, nandi.”

Ilisidi wanted the bus, he was thinking. For what did she want it? Where in hell was she going?

“They deserve it for my lilies,” Tatiseigi said. “An extraordinary day, nand’ paidhi! I shall support the Kadagidi and speak for the clan in court when it comes to that. But this scoundrel has gotten everything his predecessors have deserved, heaped up in his bed and set alight.” The old man looked back from the top step and waved at the servants, who had opened the baggage compartment. “Do not offload anything from the bus, nadiin‑ji. Leave it all aboard!” To Bren he said, as they passed the doors and entered the lower foyer. “The dowager has called a train. Her men at Asien’dalun are to be relieved soon, you say.”

“Within the hour, one hopes.” Called a train. Leave the baggage on the bus. “Where are we to go, nandi?”

“To Shejidan, nand’ paidhi. If reinforcements indeed are on the way to Asien’dalun, we shall pick up her men in my estate truck with the baggage, and we shall all rendezvous at the station. The servants are packing. Baggage will be coming down very soon. The children are all downstairs with staff, again touring the collections.”

“Has something changed, nandi?”

Tatiseigi hesitated, took account of who was near them–which was, at the moment, only their aishidi, and Jase. “On the contrary, we are taking action, nand’ paidhi. We are not calling the aiji’s train. We have diverted a local far closer. The Guild is currently arranging a problem on the rails.”

Meaning Cenedi , through his contacts, had arranged a problem on the rails, a move to isolate the local line and keep a bubble of vacant track available. He began to get the picture.

“The young gentleman,” Lord Tatiseigi said, “has not been informed of the action at Asien’dalun, nor will be until the last moment. We are telling none of the servants. We shall take all our detainees with us. We shall not put that burden on my staff, nor leave anything to draw an attack here. Go up to the main floor, nandiin. Take refreshment. There is tea in the breakfast room, and my staff will give you something stronger should you wish it.”

Tatiseigi waved his hand in invitation and was off, up the stairs at his best pace, with his aishid around him.

God. Back to the capital?

At Ilisidi’s direction?

He was exhausted. Drained. Mentally. He had looked to have a quiet hour to debrief with his aishid–which he had not been able to do, sharing a bus with Lord Aseida–then he had intended to see that Banichi had his injury looked at by the dowager’s physician, and then to take some critical notes–before he sat down with Tatiseigi and the dowager to find out what they knew. He had had his agenda all mapped, and thought it quite enough for a day.

Clearly not.

And Jase, standing near him, was looking a little distressed. He probably had gotten only half of Tatiseigi’s information.

“Jase. We’re heading for the train station. We’re being shunted straight to the Bujavid. The dowager’s ordering us all back to the capital immediately. I hate to ask your guard to stay in armor, but we’re going to be going back on the bus and making a run cross‑country, and I’m a little anxious.” Another switch of languages, for his aishid. “Nadiin‑ji, check in as you need to, find out what we have to do. Banichi‑ji, please see nand’ Siegi about that shoulder. I shall be safe here with Jase‑ji.”

“Algini,” Banichi said, just that. Banichi and Jago headed down the side hall, which could involve the security station. They were not leaving him alone, no, not even with Kaplan and Polano sticking close to Jase. Tano and Algini stayed right with him.

“Imminent attack here?” Jase asked.

“We’re the ones attacking,” he said, with fair confidence that was exactly the case. “Jase, I apologize for this. It was not at all the plan. I’m sure it wasn’t the dowager’s plan until those two turned up in the garage–but pieces are falling one after the other and we’re having to do something, before the other side reorganizes, I suspect. We can settle it. I swear to you–I personally swear it–no harm is going to come to you or those kids. Or if you think so–we can get you to the spaceport, and that place is a fortress. You could wait–”

“There’s a reason the Council sent me down here,” Jase said. “They want this venture with the young gentleman to succeed, if it can succeed. For various reasons, they want to know now if it can–or not; but no question they know things are unsettled. I hope to hell I’m not what touched off this situation. And I hope what we did back there didn’t make it worse.”

“You’re not. And you didn’t. Listen. Basic atevi law–if you attack a person, that person is entitled to respond with his full force and all his resources. That’s exactly what you did. It’s what we’re doing now, going to Shejidan. If we let this slide–now that we know where the problem is–we’d not be supporting our people. And in the dowager’s case– our people includes the aiji and the aishidi’tat. You don’t attack her, even by accident, and expect to get a free pass. That’s why she’s moving. That’s why she has to move. And she’s sure of her target. One man in a Guild office. And probably a very, very tough target to reach. It’s serious. But so is she. Absolutely serious.”

“I get your point.” Jase drew in a deep breath. “Hell of a birthday party you put on, friend.”

“Isn’t it? But, Jase, remember, too, it’s not a human war. This is about boundaries. This is all about boundaries. The opposition misjudged everything. Go down there and explain to the kids, would you? Reassure them. I think they’d like it to come from you, calmly, before we put them back on the bus.”

Jase nodded. “Good,” he said, and left, up the stairs, Kaplan and Polano staying with him.

Bren heaved a sigh and rubbed his cheek. Which hurt when he touched it. He hoped his own little medical kit hadn’t already gone into the general baggage. He wanted an aspirin.

And he looked at Tano and Algini, who were smudged with dust and who’d done the moving and fighting, and gotten the records out. “Well done, nadiin‑ji. Very well done today.”

“Nandi.”

“At least we’ll get to sit down, on the bus.”

Nods.

“How bad is Banichi’s wound?”

“Considering,” Tano said, “not bad. It was close.”

“He knew that man,” Bren said, trying for information.

Algini nodded–not forthcoming, no.

“I am at a loss,” he said, and pressed the matter. “Something is wrong, nadiin‑ji. He is clearly upset. And I cannot interpret the cause.”

Algini looked at the floor, then up, arms folded. “Haikuti was his first partner, Bren‑ji.”

“God.”

“This was in training, understand, Bren‑ji. Haikuti left him, in the field, in a very bad situation. Two others of the team died. Banichi hunted him down, they fought, associates separated them, and that partnership ended.”

One could only imagine.

“One had no idea,” Tano said.

“Before your time,” Algini said. “Banichi and I were in training together. Banichi and Haikuti came to blows over that matter, Bren‑ji, against Guild rules, and in secret. Associates on Banichi’s side intervened to get them apart and no record was made of the incident. But from that time there was hostility. They avoided assignment together, thereafter, but Haikuti’s influence reached high places. Banichi did not get favorable assignments. Banichi found, but could not prove, that Haikuti had favored his clan with information that should not have left the Guild. He reported it, as he should have.” A group of servants passed, carrying down baggage, and Algini was silent for a time.

Then said, once the servant had reached the downstairs. “Matters came very close to Council action. Then Banichi was swept up into the aiji’s service, by the aiji’s order, not Assignments, and removed from that conflict. That did not please Haikuti at all. Almost immediately after that, he was assigned into Kadagidi.”

“Haikuti’s clan, Gini‑ji. Was it Kadagidi?”

A hesitation. “Ajuri,” Algini said. “He is our target’s nephew. Favored, at every turn. Haikuti and Banichi have had occasional encounters since. And Banichi was the person Haikuti least wanted to find on his doorstep this morning. There are many, many within the Guild who will be very glad to be rid of Haikuti and particularly glad to know who did it.”

Favored, at every turn. Close to the top. And evidently taking his orders from one man in Assignments, during Murini’s rise, during the coup, during the last year.

Bren nodded slowly. “I very well understand, then. Take care of Banichi, nadiin‑ji. Keep him safe.”

“Bren‑ji,” Algini said, “we are entirely in agreement.”

19

There was permission for one brief trip out to the stables . . . with the bus sitting in the front drive. And Guild all about Cajeiri and his guests. They had to go out and come back quickly. Bad things had happened over at the Kadagidi estate. And the Taibeni were on high alert.

But they had pulled back from the stable area, so the grooms could let the mecheiti out into the pen. The doors opened, and they came out in a rush–the herd‑leader, and two others, then the rest, pushing at the doorposts, as if they all could widen the door by shoving. Brass tusk‑caps shone in the noon sun. Mecheiti snorted and blew and pawed the ground, maybe smelling the Taibeni mecheiti, or just because they had been pent up too long. The herd‑leader had taken a noseful of black powder, but he was fine now: he had asked, and Great‑uncle had said so–they had had the herd‑leader breathing vapors, and he had coughed for a few hours, and his eyes had run, but he had come through very well.

One understood the Dojisigi had done very properly not to intend to shoot at the mecheiti. Cajeiri would not have forgiven them if they had done that. But they had behaved very well, Great‑uncle had said, all things considered. The only mischief they had done was to eat up all the food in the mechanics’ refrigerator, out in the garage.

It was not quite all the mischief. They had messed up his plans. But there were far more serious things going on than his birthday. He had to look at it that way. He was almost fortunate nine.

He climbed up on the rail, a little reckless, but he was in his traveling clothes, a little plainer, and his guests tried, but it was not easy for them. Lucasi and Jegari simply took Gene and Artur and lifted them up, so they could stand on the rail, and Antaro lifted Irene up, saying, “Jump down if one shows any interest in you, nadi.”

“Jeichido!” Cajeiri called out, seeing her, and made the sound riders made. “Chi‑chi‑chi, Jeichido!”

Jeichido actually looked his way, turned her entire body, and looked at the odd gathering on the fence. Several mecheiti had, nostrils working.

But it was Jeichido who took a step in their direction, then wandered halfway to the fence.

Jeichido was not Boji, who would go anywhere for an egg, and offering a treat to anybody but the herd‑leader would start a fight. He just set Jeichido in his memory, and called out, “I shall be back, as soon as I can! We all will, if mani can get everything settled again! And then you will have your pasture back!”

“Do they really understand?” Gene asked.

“Not a bit,” he said, feeling better for having said it. “But she knows her name. And she has seen me twice now. And I will be back. I have to! I can’t fit her into my father’s apartment.”

They laughed at that. He thought his great‑grandmother’s bodyguards were probably getting impatient to have them off the back grounds, but it was his choice, whether to go back through the house, or to take the little walk in the sun, down the garden walk to the driveway, where he could see the rear of the red and black bus.

The truck was going to come and get Boji and his cage to the train, and Eisi and Lieidi would go with the truck and the baggage, and make sure they had a cover over Boji’s cage, and that he had a nice egg for the trip.

And there would be a van from the township to take the Kadagidi lord and the two Dojisigi and several of mani’s bodyguards to the train station.

They would go on the bus with mani, and Great‑uncle, and nand’ Bren, and all their bodyguards and all their staff.

And the train would take them all to the Bujavid train station. They would go upstairs–and at that point he had absolutely no idea where his guests were going to be. Nand’ Jase and his bodyguards would probably be with nand’ Bren. He understood everybody was trying to make arrangements.

He really hoped his mother would be in a good mood.

They reached the bus. And Artur picked up a stone that caught his eye.

Gene said, “This place is amazing. I can’t wait to see the Bujavid.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Irene said. She stopped at the edge of the cobbles and turned and looked all about her. Two entire turns. “It’s so beautiful, Jeri‑ji. Is there any chance we can come back here before we leave?”

“One wishes so,” Cajeiri said. “One very much wishes so.”

Contents

Also by C. J. Cherryh

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19