“Well done,” Bren said with a deep sigh. “Very well done, nadiin-ji. Breakfast is here, should you wish.” As if they hadn’t noticed. Banichi and Jago had just taken up plates, and Barb had declared she would venture it, Veijico having finished her breakfast half an hour ago without dying.
“Yes,” the pair said in near unison, and headed for the buffet.
He had a little fresh toast, himself. He was by now not quite in good appetite, whether from the compression bandage, subliminal pain, or the fact that the job was far from finished with just two phone calls. He had now to produce results with Machigi, personally, and even toast with orangelle preserve did not sit well on his stomach.
Indeed, before he had quite finished his breakfast tea, there came yet another knock at the door. A servant advised the paidhi that Lord Machigi would receive him in half an hour.
So he would get to see Lord Machigi today.
That was good.
He was still forming his notions of what to say.
That wasn’t.
Well, but he had enough bread on his stomach to cushion the pain pills. He had two thoughts that lay in a straight line. He supposed he could be ready.
Damn, he’d so desperately needed time and resources; and Barb and Toby and Veijico and the missing kid, Lucasi, all kept nagging at his mind.
But they were all side issues. They had to be. If he couldn’t work his way through the minefield of Marid relations with the rest of the aishidi’tat in the next hour, at least in some tentative way, they could die, all of them, first strike in a general war.
And he wouldn’t bet he knew how Machigi’s mind worked, not by a long shot.
Well, but he’d wanted a chance to talk to him. He had it.
He went to his bedroom in the few moments left, and sat down for a few private moments, at least, trying to get his domestic worries out of his mental circuits.
He stayed there until a knock on the door announced and Jago’s entry advised him Machigi’s escort had shown up.
“Nandi,” Jago said, all formality now.
“Yes,” he said, and went out to the sitting room, where Banichi and the others waited. The outer door stood open, and two of the local guard were waiting for him. He didn’t look at Barb.
And Barb, who wouldn’t have understood above three words of anything anybody was saying, plaintively asked where he was going.
“Business conference,” he said, still not looking at her, not wanting to make her the focus of a scene in front of the guards, and walked out, Banichi and Jago in close company with him.
Machigi elected to receive his guest in a large sitting room, this time with his Minister of Affairs, Gediri, present, along with two other persons, one a plump, bespectacled, middle-aged woman, the other a grim fellow of like age with part of an ear missing. The woman was, Machigi said, Adien, his Minister of Trade and Transport, and the half-eared man was Masitho, his Minister of Information.
There were, necessarily, bows and acknowledgements. Banichi and Jago had taken their places at the door, with eight others of the Guild. Bren personally bet that two of them—besides the two attending Machigi, ones he recognized from the last meeting—were attached to the Minister of Information : they had Masitho’s kind of look, suspicious and hungry, and not an encouraging sort of attendance in the meeting. Banichi and Jago, though armed like the rest, were seriously outnumbered.
But Bren put on a moderately pleasant, noncommittal expression, bowed, and sat down. He was, he knew, in no position to dictate the agenda for the meeting. He still had to read Machigi, and read him carefully, so he was quite content for now to let Machigi take things in his own direction, without trying to steer him at all. It was a good guess that Machigi likely knew even less, psychologically speaking, about him as a human than he knew about Machigi as atevi.
But it was also a fairly good guess that Machigi had been brought up to want every human on the planet dead, and not to give a damn about human ways and mores. This whole region tended to that opinion.
Machigi was the youngest of the present company, by no few years. He was reputed to have great intelligence and ruthlessness—a young man whose enemies had great reason to worry and whose advisors, however powerful, had better not exceed his patience.
That was certainly the personal impression he gave. He was a handsome fellow—dark gold eyes gave his face a somber cast, making it hard to see what he was thinking. An old scar slanted across his chin. That had been no minor injury.
There was the customary round of tea, a little pleasantness—of a sort.
“We understand you are injured, nandi,” Machigi said. “If you have need of a physician or medicines, please advise my staff.”
“Your graciousness is appreciated, nandi.” In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to advertise. Nor did he want to take drugs provided by Machigi’s staff.
“Nothing is broken, one hopes.”
“Bruised, only, nandi. I thank you for your courtesy.” They had likely gathered their information from the bugs upstairs, not a surprise. They might suspect he was on painkillers and therefore at some disadvantage. “It slows me a little, but not excessively.” He took a chance and added: “Your erstwhile neighbor, for some reason, saw fit to attempt my life. One is obliged to report, nandi, that Lord Pairuti is no longer your neighbor.”
Brows lifted. Machigi took a final sip of tea and set his cup aside. “Indeed. So Lord Geigi of Kajiminda has now claimed the lordship?
“For the moment, nandi, Lord Geigi is indeed in charge. I understand he wishes to settle the responsibility on some other individual . . .” Bren set his own cup aside and said, deliberately, “But Lord Geigi is lately embarrassingly short of relatives.”
There was about one heartbeat of deathly silence. Then Lord Machigi laughed, a silent laugh that began to be a grin, giving that grim face an astonishingly boyish look . . . considering they were talking about murder.
“Is he, now?” Machigi asked. “And what does one suppose he will do about it?”
Geigi’s one marriage had not been a success, either in the production of an heir nor in personal relations with his Marid wife. Geigi’s late sister had ruled Kajiminda in Geigi’s absence. Her untimely demise had promoted her fool of a son, Baiji, to lordship at Kajiminda. And the assassination and Baiji’s lordship were both plausibly Machigi’s doing—or the plan of one of the advisors in this room.
“One thinks it likely Lord Geigi will appoint an interim lord at Targai and then go back to space. He has a very comfortable residence there.”
“Of what people will he appoint a successor at Targai?” Machigi asked, and he was not laughing.
“If one had to guess, likely Peijithi clan, nandi.” That was the subclan of the Maschi, inland folk, not, as might be a great concern to Machigi, the coastal Edi people, neighbors to Geigi’s personal estate at Kajiminda—who were moving into a position of authority there, a fact that Machigi might or might not know. “But I have a certain knowledge of Lord Geigi. One is very certain he will discourage any border disputes from his side. It is the aiji’s policy; it is the aiji-dowager’s policy, and it is certainly my own wish as another of your neighbors.”
“Ah,” Machigi said, as if he had forgotten something and only just remembered it—which one didn’t at all believe. “We have had a response from Shejidan this morning.” A pause, deliberate, judging effect. Bren kept his face absolutely under control and managed, he hoped, to look confident.
“One trusts it was a favorable answer, nandi,” he said.
“We are informed Tabini-aiji’s Filing against us is rescinded,” Machigi said. “We are still awaiting word on the other Guild matter.”
“One hopes that may have as favorable an outcome, nandi.”
“Do you think that it will?” Machigi asked.
“One has no reason to believe it will not, nandi.” The other Guild matter: outlawry. It was clearly the one Machigi should be most worried about and, involving the w
hole machinery of the Guild, the one hardest to get stopped. “You have the dowager’s statement of her own position. Tabini-aiji tends to listen to her. And the Guild will take this move of his into account, one is sure.”
“You are sure of a great many things.”
“Of a few central things, nandi, among them the purpose of the aiji-dowager in sending me here. And the likelihood that you are not necessarily our adversary.”
Machigi leaned back in his chair. “You have had a long and close relationship with the aiji-dowager.”
“Yes, nandi.”
“Yet you serve the aiji, her grandson.”
“Quarrels between them are far fewer than reported.”
“Has she possibly sent you here without consultation with her grandson?”
Interesting question. “One has no way to know. You say he has rescinded the Filing. He may be considering her position in making that decision.”
“Guesswork?”
“One surmises he is to some extent aware of these negotiations—now, if not earlier. I was at Targai, engaged with Geigi in attempting to settle that problem, when the aiji-dowager directed me to come here. I have had no advisement as to what contact she had with her grandson.” He made a snap decision, to turn the question-and-answer in his own direction. “But I have also had a long and close relationship with Tabini-aiji, nandi. The relationship between the Marid and Tabini-aiji has been uneven, to say the least. But may one . . . advance an observation in regard to the aiji’s view of these events, nandi?’
“We shall be interested. Do so.”
“Tabini-aiji is an innovator. If there seems to be advantage in doing a thing, he will consider it, even if it goes against precedent and previous policy and even if some consider it outrageous. The world as a whole is still dealing with the advent of new humans in the heavens. The human enclave on Mospheira is now flooded with change sent down from the station during my absence from the world, to counter Murini’s rule on the mainland. These two situations could rapidly upset the technological balance. This concerns me. It concerns him. We also now know there are strangers in the heavens who are not human or atevi. Those strangers have promised they will someday come here to visit us, partly to test the representations made to them. This brings us a problem, since we cannot prevent them from coming, and they have enemies about whom we know far less than we wish.”
This brought frowns all around.
“We hope to steer around this difficulty, nandi. But Tabini-aiji does not wish to have humans making the sole decisions up on the station when this visit in the heavens take place. He has kept and increased atevi authority in space. Lord Geigi is a part of that establishment, hence the aiji’s urgent wish to have Geigi’s business on earth settled and Geigi returned to his post in the heavens.”
“What concern is this to us?” the grim man asked.
“A matter of understanding the other side’s position, nandi. Tabini-aiji has been accused of shifting too often. But his adaptability in the face of change may turn out to be a very great asset to all atevi. Including you, Lord Machigi.” Getting the exchange back to him and Machigi was essential. “You also have a reputation for flexibility, beyond any other lord of the Marid. What the dowager has heard of you encourages her belief that you may be another such individual as her grandson. She thinks you more valuable to the Marid than any other lord, and far too valuable to have at odds with her.”
“Shall we be flattered by that?”
Right off the edge of the cliff. Live or die. “She extends an offer of negotiation and, in my belief, association with her, nandi. That is no flattery. She is eminently practical. You lead the Marid Association. Others may claim that position, but they have done nothing creative in their entire administrations. The aiji-dowager does not see any advantage to her or to the aishidi’tat in your fall from power, which would only bring chaos to the Marid.”
Machigi leaned back in his chair and swept an uneasy glance toward his advisors. “So Tabini-aiji has formed designs on the Marid? This is no news at all.”
“The aiji-dowager has no territorial ambitions here. And this is her offer, not Tabini-aiji’s.”
“Which can lead to a Ragi navy in our ports,” the scarred man muttered. The central district was dominated by Tabini’s Ragi clan; in effect, the aishidi’tat’s core was Ragi clan. “Ask the human, aiji-ma, how long until the Ragi show up for a goodwill tour, to survey our defenses?”
Machigi made a move of his hand, tossing the question to Bren.
Bren drew a breath. The Marid lords being legendary seafarers, the sea had always mattered to them—emotionally—and one did not think the sea would ever cease to matter. “Again, nandi, the aiji-dowager does not command a navy. Nor is she, in fact, Ragi.”
A silence followed that parry. The aiji-dowager was often thought of in one breath with the Ragi. But in fact she was not. She was Eastern. Foreign.
“Then what is the benefit of such an alliance?” the woman asked. “Where is any advantage to us in dealing with her? What have we possibly to do with the East?”
There was the question. And Bren had thought about it—with absolutely no instruction from the dowager, no brief, no preparation, and no possible consultation with the dowager. He flatly made it up out of whole cloth, hoping to come up with something that would involve no weakening of the Ragi position, no concessions on the west coast, and would actually pose some benefit to both sides.
It started with the word most valued by the Marid and proceeded to a word favoring one of their two factions.
“Ships, nandiin. Development of an eastern market, to the dowager’s benefit and yours.”
“What moves by sea,” the scarred man asked, “that the aishidi’tat does not move by rail? This is no offer.”
“Rail does not touch the east of the East. The aiji-dowager has gathered power and influence over a very wide area of that half of the continent. It is a rural, traditional population, particularly along the coast, which has seafaring villages, like the Marid. Unlike the Marid, however, having no land within reach, the East has never developed a shipping industry. The East has never trusted the Guilds. It views rail as a Ragi-run institution, which reaches to the center of the East, but not to the coast, and there is only one line. Getting rail through the mountains has been slow and full of politics. So trade flows, but not enough. The dowager has no desire to change the traditional ways of her people; but she does not intend the people of the eastern coast to continue in the relative poverty that afflicts that district. The development of fisheries and villages up and down that coast would be of great interest to her, but Easterners are not, traditionally, adventurous seafarers. The harbors there are small. There are coasters that go up and down to small ports, but nothing launches out to the wide sea. The area is mostly fisherfolk and cottage industry and has no wish to industrialize. It is, in short, much like the Marid itself.” Everything he was saying now was true, top to bottom, and for at least the duration, they were all listening: adrenaline flowed. It was the thinnest tissue of a construction, and an adverse word could shred it. He had to say the right things, head off objections as they popped into very foreign heads. “The aiji-dowager has no territorial ambitions on this side of the continent. You have your position on the south coast, halfway between the ports of the West, and the undeveloped areas of the East. You have deepwater ships the East lacks. I mention these areas of common interest first, as the starting point. Ultimately, the dowager’s associations on the orbiting station could bring new offers to the negotiating table. But let us deal with ships and ports. These are not ephemera she offers : this is a lasting relationship between the East and the Taisigin Marid, and she is not offering it to any other lord of the Marid.”
Silence followed. Glances slid one way and the other among the taciturn ministers. The last had been risky, but it seemed a damned good shot.
Machigi lifted a hand, commanding attention.
“Well,” Machigi said, “a
ttractive as these new ports may be, the question facing us is the intention of the aishidi’tat to dictate to the Marid.”
“Indeed,” Bren said. “Through association with the aiji-dowager, your relations with the aiji in Shejidan could greatly improve. You would have an advocate.”
“Tabini-aiji is Ragi born and bred, greedy, and bent on taking the south. She is his grandmother.”
The old feud, the Ragi with the South, the old resentment. The whole argument could shipwreck on that rock.
“Traditions are both a brake and a compass; but the engine—the engine of the aishidi’tat, nandi, is a leader who can effect change and who will listen if you have proposals, particularly if you have the aiji-dowager’s support going in. Traditionalists in the north will always temper Tabini-aiji’s desire for change—but if any association is going to survive into a changing future, the leader of that association has to have the freedom to move. The dowager is such a leader. You are such a leader. You, nandi, can step straight into a very profitable association without the untidy process of a war. And she, through her personal connections, can entirely alter your relationship with the north in a favorable direction. That is the dowager’s proposal. Look to the East. There is where you can change everything.”