That was hopeful. That was hopeful in a major way. But he wasn’t hearing the firing nearly as often now.
Something was going on. There were just the whistles.
The Edi were moving.
Moving back.
Then a distant fire opened up.
That—that might be Machigi.
And one couldn’t damned well hear. One couldn’t get a direction on it. Bren opened the door, slid down to the step-down and held on to the door, getting down. He didn’t want to distract anybody.
He just wanted—
“Bren-ji!” Tano said from the rear of the truck. He turned around, saw Tano leaning on the sidewall of the truck, pointing off to the northwest. Lucasi struggled to the same vantage with a thump that rocked the truck, as gunfire rattled steadily in the distance.
“What is it?” he asked.
Tano pressed the com to his ear, talking to someone. “The bus!” Lucasi cried. “The bus is on the road, nandi!”
He still saw nothing. But he trusted atevi hearing. He stood holding on to the truck door, hoping the engine block was some shield against anything coming his direction.
They had the bus, they lost the bus—somebody outranked them and took it from them. And now it came back.
Without a damned word.
“Bren-ji,” Tano said. “Tabini-aiji is coming.”
God. He wouldn’t. An absolute cold chill went through him. Tabini. Risk himself. Risk everything.
And if Tabini came charging in here with the Edi and Machigi and the renegades going at each other and none of the latter respecting the aishidi’tat, he didn’t lay bets on which side would attack whom.
“Tano.” He made his way to the side of the truck so he could look up at both of them, the resources he had. “Tell Tabini-aiji the situation. Inform him. One doesn’t care who hears at this point. It is not the time for him to come in unaware.”
“Yes,” Tano said, and: “We have code we can use, nandi.”
God, God, God. He could hear the engine now. And the gunfire was still going on out there.
If Tabini came here to repudiate the deal with Machigi, everything could collapse. If Tabini came here thinking he was going to deal with the Edi, he needed to know where Machigi was. It was a damned mess, was what it was.
He needed to haul his own aishid out of this and let them explain. Right now it was just Tano. He thought about hitting the truck horn; but they might think he was in jeopardy and risk themselves trying to get back.
But atevi hearing. They were going, any minute now, to hear the bus. He could. They were going to know. There was only one motor in all Sarini Province that sounded like that.
He stood beside the truck and listened to Tano say words that made no sense, and all the while the situation was getting closer on both sides, and gunfire and heavier rounds were going off, the latter shaking the earth. Inside the bus, it was so damned soundproofed it was unlikely anybody heard it; but he couldn’t judge. It was getting hot here, getting closer to their position, and from his vantage he didn’t know how many of the Edi had gotten back here and how many were lagging back firing at the renegades or at Machigi. The whistles had stopped. The gunfire was steady.
“Do the others know?”
Tano gave him a troubled look. And then said, “Yes, nandi. One has called them. They are coming back.”
Back. Where in hell were they? Doing what?
He heard the whistles again from off in the woods. And gunfire. And the bus. He limped back to the side of the truck, to the front fender, where he had something of a vantage.
More whistles, increasing in complexity. The forest across the road was alive with it. And of all people they could reach with communications, the Edi were not on the list.
Damn, he thought. And heard an alarming burst of gunfire, and saw movement in the trees.
He was not in a good position. A shot kicked up the sand out in the road, and then a volley answered it. He retreated to the side of the truck and saw Lucasi leaning on the roof of the cab, with a rifle, and Tano, one-handed, similarly bracing himself with his sidearm.
He took out his own gun. Thumbed the safety off. More than his aishid had heard the bus. The opposition must be hearing it. So, depending on distance, might Machigi.
The bus had taken the turn. It was coming up the road now, raising a column of dust above the trees.
A column suddenly interrupted.
“Nandi,” Tano said. “Guild is deploying. They instruct us to hold position.”
Hold position. There was no damned way they could move, except to run the truck straight through the Edi.
Who likewise knew that motor. The bus refueled and garaged in Najida village. They’d think it came from Najida estate. They’d hear it as allies moving in. They’d expect Guild under Cenedi’s orders.
Close. Close enough to let them use common sense. He heard the engine rev up again. It was coming.
“Nandi,” Tano said again. “Banichi has warned Machigi.”
Tano’s partner and Banichi and Jago were out there using short-range to reach Machigi—spotting for them, it might well be. Doing a little damage of their own if they got the chance. It made sense. But he wanted them out of there. They were, like him, like Tano, running on empty. They didn’t have it in them to move as fast as they needed, think as sharply as they needed. He wanted them back, dammit, before something happened . . .
The bus came around the bend of the snaking road, full tilt, and applied the brakes. He stood staring at it as it sat there, huge, red and black ,and shiny under a coating of dust. He couldn’t see through the window tint. But they’d see him.
Then a voice like doom thundered out: “This is a Guild operation. Guild forces are dispersed in the area. All civilians, cease fire and fall back behind this point, for your own safety. This is a Guild operation under the auspices of Tabini-aiji, under the law of the aishidi’tat. Cease fire and fall back to this position.”
Nobody in the woods could fail to hear that. He hadn’t known the bus had a loudspeaker. He’d bought it already made from Shejidan, he’d ordered it in by rail, he’d traveled on it. He knew it had tinted windows, a refrigerator, and every passenger comfort. But he hadn’t known the driver had a loudspeaker. That was a surprise.
The strength just started to go out of him. The Guild wanted the damned fight? The Guild could have it. Just—if Tabini was going to take action against Machigi, he had to protest it. He’d agreed to represent Machigi. He had to go do it.
He headed for the bus as the doors opened. He heard a racket behind him—Tano, getting down from the truckbed, his ears told him; but his eyes were for the bus door and the uniformed Guildsmen coming out of it. Tabini’s personal guard, those men.
Tabini came next, in immaculate black brocade, black lace at the cuffs—that pale gold stare that could convince a man he was a damned fool to argue.
He gave his own back, not about to start with any apology for what he’d done. He stopped at the requisite distance and gave a short, correct bow. “Nand’ aiji. One is grateful. One is also obliged to request your forces use caution. Machigi-aiji has engaged the Guild’s enemies. One also—” He ran out of air, grew downright dizzy, damn the restriction of the vest. “—has Guild deployed in support of Machigi.”
Tabini said, expressionless, “And what outcome does Lord Machigi want?”
“He wants to ally with the aiji-dowager under the terms she has presented him. These terms are—” Another breath. He was aware of Tano at his back and another presence, which had limped there. Somehow Lucasi had gotten down from the truck and come with Tano. Now he heard another. He was not sure which one, but he did not breach etiquette to turn and look. “These terms are that he take firm governance of the Marid as a whole. By the Guild action, he will hold that position. He will ally with the aiji-dowager in a trade agreement. He will shift his routes eastward. He will expect the Edi people—to become neighbors within the aishidi’tat. Under your gove
rnance. That is his position. The Marid—will be a member state—of the aishidi’tat . . .” Someone else had arrived at his back. Two sets of footsteps. They were all there. He got a breath. He was getting there. “One asks—one asks support—from your office.”
“We want you back,” Tabini said grimly. “And we have you, paidhi-aiji. You have delivered his position. Now, by the same antiquated custom, you represent us. And we want your uncompromised opinion. What do you think we should do about Machigi?”
“One found him—intelligent. A strong leader. Sensible.” His heartbeat had been going strong. Now it began to get out of hand. “You should deal with him. He has problems in his district. Poverty. Traditions. The aiji-dowager—” He was going to need to sit down. He got a breath. Remembered he was standing there like a fool with a very illegal pistol in hand, dealing with Tabini, whose guard was hair-triggered. He wanted to put it back into his pocket, but any move with it could have Tabini’s guard reacting. He gave a little bow, having completely lost his train of thought. “Deal with him, aiji-ma. His paths go several ways from here. Be careful with him. Treat him well. I want to put this gun away, aiji-ma. I need to put the safety on.”
“Help him,” Tabini said sharply, and immediately Jago was on his right, taking the gun, and Banichi on his left with his hand inside his elbow.
“Get him on the bus,” Tabini said.
“I have not been injured,” Bren objected. “One is just a little dizzy, aiji-ma. One will do quite well—” They paid him no heed at all and took him toward the bus door. “Is the aiji-dowager safe?” he asked.
“My scheming grandmother is perfectly well,” Tabini said. “Get aboard. Sit down. Nadi, get the paidhi a drink.”
Alcohol would not do well at all. He did not intend to drink it. But Banichi and Jago put him into a seat, and then Algini helped Lucasi up the steps: Tano made it under his own power, but barely.
“We shall leave the Najida truck to transport the Edi wounded,” he heard Banichi say, and Tabini came back aboard, and the door shut definitively.
“We need to contact the Taisigi,” he said to Jago, who had sat down beside him in a largely empty bus.
“That will be done, Bren-ji,” she said, and just then the drink arrived, orange, which he wanted more than anything; he tasted it carefully, and found no hint of alcohol. So he sipped it, a hit of sugar, moisture, and a relief to his throat. It was almost beyond him to hold it. But the plush seat had a drink holder. And a cushion for his head. He was filthy, head to foot. His hands left muddy marks on the sweating glass.
“Everybody needs orange,” he said. “Tell them that.”
“That can be arranged.” Tabini leaned on the seat, as the bus started up. “Quite the storm you raised, paidhi. You try to drown my son, you invade the Marid—when you come back to Shejidan, kindly manage things more quietly.”
“One is grateful,” he said in an unsteady voice, “one is exceedingly grateful for your understanding, aiji-ma.”
“Ha!” Tabini said, slapped the seat back, and walked up to take hold of the upright pole beside the driver, while his bodyguard moved back into the seats. The bus pulled up beside the truck, backed around.
“The equipment,” Tano said. “The paidhi’s—”
Notes were in the baggage, Bren thought.
“Hold the bus a moment, aiji-ma,” Algini said, and went back down the steps toward the truck. A handful of Edi stood in view of the open door. They said nothing, just leaned on their rifles and watched.
A moment or two more and Algini brought the baggage onto the bus and left it on the bus steps.
More fruit juice arrived. Algini took one and sat down next to Tano.
Bren heaved a sigh. Thought about unfastening the coat and the damned vest, but it was beyond filthy, and he was, and he told himself if he just didn’t move for the length of time it took to get to Kajiminda or Najida or wherever they were going, he would be fine.
He drank another sip. Two. And set the drink back in the holder and let his eyes shut. Jago was beside him. Banichi and the kid were aboard, Banichi talking to the senior of Tabini’s bodyguard, somewhere back there; Algini and Tano were in the seat opposite, and they were going somewhere safer, aboard a powerful huge bus that had left a sizeable force of Guild in Tabini’s personal service.
He’d done as much as he could do. He rested his head against the backrest and shut his eyes, which began a short, confusing slide toward sleep.
Safe, he said to himself. Whatever happened. Safe. He’d gotten his people out. That was what he knew for certain.
20
Mani and Father were shouting at each other. That was not unusual.
It did make it a good time for one to be out of range. And Cajeiri did not want to go back to his rooms, where he would hear nothing at all, and he was not supposed to be downstairs in the area where nand’ Siegi was operating on Tano.
He had been down there when Lucasi came down to see Veijico, but he had decided that it was better to stay outside and not interfere. Veijico was happy, and Lucasi was happy; in fact, there was happiness just all over the house, for most everybody. The staff had gotten nand’ Bren back, and they were running like mad trying to prepare Lord Geigi’s rooms for Father to stay the night. Lord Geigi was in the security station relaying messages to his bodyguard, who were still off where the fighting had been—they were waiting for the bus to come back and get them.
He and nand’ Toby and Barb-daja had all been outside when the bus had come in the first time, with Father and his guard, and nand’ Bren and Banichi and Jago and all; and nand’ Bren had walked off the bus on his own, limping just a little and incredibly dirty. Nand’ Bren had bowed a hello to him—to him, right after his father had passed, and he had bowed back and asked nand’ Bren if he was well, which had been a stupid question.
“I have someone to see you,” nand’ Bren had said, and Algini had just started to help Lucasi down from the bus.
“Nandi,” Lucasi had called him, and had bowed very contritely, and had not even asked questions.
“Your sister will be very happy,” he had said.
And meanwhile nand’ Bren hugged Toby and even hugged Barb-daja, which did not surprise anybody who had been much around humans. And Barb-daja had made a fuss, and Toby had said Bren looked like hell, but he knew nand’ Toby meant it kindly.
Besides, it was fairly true. Nand’ Bren was a mess. And he limped on, with his bodyguard, and with nand’ Toby and all, and mani had met Father in the hall, and then nand’ Bren.
“Pish, pish,” she had said, waving him away. “Your guard will debrief. Go. Go, paidhi. Well done! Extremely well done!”
“Aiji-ma,” nand’ Bren said, with a bow. “Thank you.”
“Pish! Thank us? It seems rather the other way about, does it not? Ignore the damage, paidhi-ji. We shall see it set to rights. Shall we not, Grandson?”
That, to Father. Who was already scowling and probably thinking of things to say. Probably mani had been thinking of things to say for several hours, too. Cajeiri would not go into that room for anything.
Lucasi had gone straight downstairs to see Veijico, and he had gone down to talk to both of them, but nand’ Siegi had nabbed Lucasi after he had no more than told his sister he was there. Nand’ Sieigi had said he was a hazard to health and to go bathe, and he was going to take x-rays once he had gotten through with Tano. And nand’ Siegi had taken Tano right in hand, but Tano said he did not think it was that serious; he thought Algini had gotten all the pieces of the shrapnel out.
So Tano was getting x-rays.
So all the pieces were falling into place, with all the excitement over, and he was glad about it. He was tired of being scared. He wanted to have his aishid, and to get some sleep in his own bed, and not to have his father lecturing him about coming here and causing trouble.
Besides, he had not caused the trouble. The trouble had been here. He had just helped turn it up.
Lord Geigi was at
the security station getting the news from his aishid, who were still out where nand’ Bren had been; and so was Nawari and several of mani’s guard. They said they had the Edi all on one side and the Taisigi separated from them by a number of real Guild, and that Machigi was going to go back to a hunting station just across the border and stay there running his government. Meanwhile, Lord Machigi was going to write a letter to Lord Geigi and ask Lord Geigi to settle agreements with him.
Geigi’s nephew Baiji was not going to be any happier. He was still locked in nand’ Bren’s basement.
But Geigi said he would look forward to the letter, and he told his aishid to tell Machigi’s aishid, which was how things were done.
It was going to be different if Lord Machigi turned out to make an agreement with mani and with Lord Geigi and with his father, because the Marid had been at war with the aishidi’tat over and over, and Machigi had sponsored Murini, or at least been somewhere involved in what happened.
He was not sure his father would forget that. He was going to have trouble forgetting it. But if mani thought Lord Machigi could be useful, and if Lord Machigi had come in to stop the renegades, who were, after all, Murini’s supporters in the Guild, and if his aishid had been working with the regular Guild all along, the way they seemed to have done, then there was a lot more to find out about Lord Machigi—who, after all, was the only lord in the northern Marid who was still alive. Lord Machigi was not stupid. So he could be a good ally or a bad enemy.
That was something more to remember.
“Are you going to forgive Lord Machigi, nandi?” he asked Lord Geigi.
Lord Geigi looked down at him. “One will be very interested to see this letter,” he said. “Such serious questions, young gentleman.”
“But you will forgive him,” he said, because it occurred to him he knew a lot about Lord Geigi, “because you are mani’s closest ally. But you have known nand’ Bren longer.”
“One has, indeed,” Lord Geigi said, and laughed as if he had thought of some funny secret. “One owes him. One owes him, and one owes your great-grandmother and your father, who made such a judgment of me, in years gone by. Old adversaries, finding they have interests in common, can make agreements, young lord.”