Machigi tilted his head, considering that statement, and it might have pleased him, or amused him. He had that slight expression—which slowly evolved into a brief smile.
“You are good, paidhi.”
“One hopes to be helpful to both sides, nandi. The aishidi’tat and the Marid have spent too much of their wealth and invention on wars.”
Machigi swept a sober look about at his ministers. “We have things to consider, do we not, nandiin-ji?”
There was not a word from the ministers, no lively give and take. No acceptance. But no rejection.
Was there ordinarily that sort of session with this man? Bren asked himself. Was it the presence of an enemy that restrained them—or was it the habit of restraint with a touchy young autocrat?
He gathered no clue from them at all. Machigi gave a flick of his hand on the chair arm, and the ministers all rose and bowed and left, collecting the majority of the guards as they went.
Bren didn’t stare after them. He watched Machigi, and Machigi watched him, while their two sets of bodyguards stood watching over both of them.
“Well,” Machigi said, “well, shall we take a walk together, nand’ paidhi?”
Machigi got up. Bren did. And Machigi led the way to the large doors at the far end of the room. Machigi’s guards moved to open them. Banichi and Jago shifted to stay close to Bren, and out of the line of Machigi’s guards.
The doors let in a widening seam of light, and the room beyond proved to be a hall of windows with a view of the harbor—a pleasant room, with small, green leather chairs, with large and ancient maps on the other three walls. Fishing boats were evident in that panoramic view. So was a larger freighter, moving slowly beyond the smaller boats, and the horizon beyond the city wharves was all water.
“A magnificent view, nandi,” Bren said.
“This is the heart of the Marid,” Machigi said. “This is our sea. This, with our ships, is our power. Of the five clans of the Marid, only the Taisigi and the Senji have any extensively useful land inward. But you know this, being what you are.”
“You have grain fields, nandi, and the Senji have their hunting range and their orchards.”
“Well-learned, are you?” Machigi turned from the windows and faced him with a curious tilt to his head. “Hearing that Ragi accent come from your mouth continually amazes me. You have the size and the voice of a young child—one hardly means to offend you, nand’ paidhi, but I have constantly to assure my eyes that you are the one speaking.”
One might justifiably be offended, but it was rarely the paidhi’s prerogative to be offended. Bren simply bowed in acknowledgment of the honesty and smiled slightly. “I have often wondered how I appear to others.”
“You have a reputation, paidhi, for great tenacity, among other things. Tenacity and audacity. Commendable qualities, up to a point.”
“I hope to uphold that reputation, up to a point, nandi.”
“You have asked very little of our hospitality except that I recover a stray Guildsman of yours, which unfortunately we have not yet done. Possibly he is not in Taisigi territory.”
“Possibly he is not. But he would move slowly. He was injured.”
“Baji-naji. You and your household seem to have had a hard few days, nand’ paidhi.”
“It has been an interesting trip, nandi.”
“So Pairuti is fallen. And Lord Geigi claims the clan lordship of the Maschi—to pass it on to an out-clansman, perhaps—or not. And now the dowager wishes to make common cause with me because she admires my character. You will understand that I take all this news with a little skepticism.”
“If we go to negotiations, nandi, it will be my job to present your position to the dowager as energetically as I present hers to you. Admittedly, this venture was set in motion without extensive preparation. I have no documents for you, I have no absolute assurance that the dowager will agree with every detailed point of what I have proposed to you—” God help me, he thought. First I have to explain to her what they are. What did she expect me to do, approach this man with no of fers in hand? “But I shall argue earnestly for it, nandi. I believe it represents a fair exchange of positions, no one parting with anything at all. Your collective needs and assets fit with the dowager’s like key and lock.”
“In what matters do you think she will balk, nandi? Be more specific.” Machigi sank into a chair, offering the one opposite, before the immense windows. Light fell on them and reflected off the polished table between them. “We have just had the retraction of the Filing, which I assure you never greatly troubled me. When has the aiji not wanted me dead?”
“Well, now would be a just answer. He does not now wish you dead, nandi. That is some improvement in relations in just the last few hours we have talked.”
Machigi rested his chin on his fist. “Spell out for me the things the dowager proposes—and those things you think she will not grant.”
“The message instructing me to come here was delivered while I was in transit, nandi, so as aforesaid, one has not had the opportunity to consult with her. However,” he added quickly, lest Machigi’s patience run out, “I can state certain things with some assurance. First, a stable Marid is essential to peace in the aishidi’tat. Second, she believes that membership in the aishidi’tat is beneficial to her district.” That produced a frown, and he added rapidly: “The aishidi’tat is not perceived as beneficial to the Marid, but it can become so. One can even surmise, nandi, that the character of the Marid Association itself might change, if the relationship between Tanaja and Shejidan were suddenly stable, and if it had a fortunate third participant, in the East. If the Marid once and for all defines its long-term interests in ways that bring about a stable, peaceful, and profitable association with the aiji-dowager, the aishidi’tat would have to take those interests into account.”
“And if these interests include rule over the west coast?”
“The Marid has no great land-based establishment to the West and never has had. I argue it would be of no great value to you, compared to the offer on the table.”
“Disputable.”
“Yet you were only claiming the West when the Edi arrived. While all your wealth and prosperity, as you have shown me in the harbor outside this window, is the sea and its shipping. The greater quarrels with the west coast have always been disputes principally over rights of shipping and trade. What do you care about the land?”
“A great deal, considering the aishidi’tat in its wisdom moved in a batch of wreckers and pirates onto the coast!”
“Honestly, one cannot but commiserate with the Marid on that grievance. Several decisions were taken under pressures of that time, one of which was to settle the Edi and the Gan peoples, without direct representation, into the middle of two troubled districts. You may have heard, nandi, that the Edi situation is currently being addressed.” He did not anticipate that the granting of a lordship to the Edi would be met with any joy in the Marid, but as well lay that card on the table from the start. “One might anticipate the Gan will make their own requests.”
Machigi frowned, but he did not look startled. That told him something.
“The Edi situation is one major change,” Bren continued, “bound to force other changes—including political ones—on all the people of the coast. But if this change comes, the Edi and the Gan will become signatory to the aishidi’tat, and the Edi will be constrained by the law. If the law is violated, and Marid ships are interfered with—there will be repercussions within the law, and you will be compensated and protected. This is a firm principle of the administration in Shejidan. The Edi have been outsiders both to the law and to the aishidi’tat, and there has been very little the aiji in Shejidan could do about piracy without further destabilizing the coast. If the coast is stable, and the Edi become insiders, then there will indeed be recourses, and someone will be answerable.”
The frown persisted. “So the pirates become part of the aishidi’tat. Is that a recommendation fo
r the aishidi’tat? And the Marid is to get nothing by standing by and allowing this to happen?”
The paidhi-aiji was considerably out on a limb. And making extravagant promises that could only be unmade by Tabini totally repudiating him and his office and leaving him to face whatever mess he’d created.
He said, quietly, “Again, I plead the lack of advance consultation, nandi. But what I personally would support, in every possible way and with all the influence of my domestic office, is, first, the safety of Marid ships to move in all waters. And second, as I have mentioned, the training of Marid personnel for work on the space station. Increased trade. The development of a major airport and rail access here in the Marid for commercial traffic. Besides the development of east coast harbors, which is the dowager’s particular gain. The Marid can gain the advantages that, in my own opinion, it should have enjoyed long since—advantages that would have prevented much of the past bitterness and made the lives of its people the better for it. Your predecessors and Tabini-aiji have had their differences, which were set in motion by unfortunate decisions two hundred years ago. One respectfully suggests the disputes of two hundred years ago are no longer profitable to either side. That they are, in fact, even inimical to both sides’ best interests—and even if they are embedded in popular sentiment, popular sentiment is very rapidly affected by profit and prosperity.”
“But you do not speak for Tabini in offering this.”
“For the aiji-dowager. Who does not offer you anything in the West. Only in the East.” A deep breath. A gathering of panicked, skittering thoughts. “I assure you, nandi, I have asked myself, from the moment I received the dowager’s orders—why now? And I have reached two conclusions: first, she saw a moment of opportunity; and second, she is greatly vexed by certain decisions involving the formation of the aishidi’tat that she did not get the chance to overturn. She had wielded the power on her son’s death. You may recall she came very close to being aiji in Shejidan. Ragi interests stepped in to hand the office to her Ragi grandson.”
Machigi’s face changed somewhat in the course of that. It was not a communicative face, but one could surmise that Machigi, being quite young, had not been that in touch with history.
The Ragi dominance over the aishidi’tat, however, was right at the core of resentments in Machigi’s local universe.
Ilisidi had been double-crossed by Ragi connivance? True. And it set Ilisidi and the Marid curiously on the same side of the fence in that regard. He watched Machigi weighing that bit of history, which was perhaps new to his thinking.
“An interesting perspective,” Machigi commented finally. He did not stop frowning.
And meanwhile the paidhi-aiji had had the most uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach regarding what he had just said—that it could be exactly the aiji-dowager’s game, and not only in the Marid.
Power. Ilisidi had come within an ace of being aiji twice in her life, once after the death of her husband, Tabini’s grandfather, and again at the death of her son, Tabini’s father. She had come so close, in fact, that suspicion had attached to her in those two deaths—not to mention to Tabini, in the latter instance. Atevi suspected foul play by default, in any change in parties in power—
But in that case, suspicion had perhaps been justified. And maybe she was getting back to old business. Kingmaking, in this case, spotting a likely candidate and making a move to bring him under her influence.
Machigi was capable of utter ruthlessness. Give him more power, and the difficulty was going to be in keeping Machigi in his bottle. In the same way Ilisidi had always been dangerous . . . so was this young man.
But Ilisidi had been around a long, long time. And Machigi was young. The potential in that relationship was frightening. And Machigi had better count his change in the transaction.
The silence went on a few more heartbeats. Then Machigi shifted in his chair, folded his hands across his middle, and gave a very guarded smile.
“You come up with all this structure of air and wishes, all because the dowager concludes some of my neighbors in the Marid would like to see me dead.”
“If you were dead, nandi, it would even disadvantage your neighbors, though they may not see it that way now. The Marid needs a strong, single leader or it falls apart in internal conflict. But it is quite clear to me, and I think to the dowager, and perhaps to her grandson, that chaos in this region at this time would in no wise benefit them.”
“So we are now favored as trusted allies?”
“If there were no Marid, nandi, there would be worse problems for the aishidi’tat. Humans have a saying: Nature abhors a vacuum. Peace first. Then profit. With freedom of the seas—and space—there will be profit.”
Machigi lifted a hand in a throwaway gesture. “Of course. And my own relations with the western coast? Lord Geigi in particular will not be my ally.”
That was fairly direct.
“His sister’s death is the most grievous matter. Are we unjust to suspect it?”
“Not unjust.”
“May one be even more blunt, nandi, and ask, in fact, about the kidnapping of an Edi child and the mining of the Kajiminda road—whether, despite your not having been responsible, you were knowledgable?”
“Would it actually matter to the aiji-dowager, paidhi-aiji?”
“Frankly, no, nandi. If we achieve peace, that question becomes irrelevant—unless the answer is no.”
Machigi’s eyes had flickered through the convolutions of that statement—until the last. Then the grim smile came back.
“The answer is no,” Machigi said. “We were surprised at the news. We are attempting to discover who did plan it, and Tabini-aiji will not have to trouble himself to deal with it.”
One yes, one no. The odds Machigi was dealing in the truth—rose.
“May one then relay to the dowager that she was entirely right?”
“Let her worry,” Machigi said. “When you next speak to her, you officially speak under our man’chi. Is that not your duty?”
Speak under our man’chi. Hell! Speak as Machigi’s representative ? He’d promised it—but that wasn’t entirely what Machigi meant.
The shift of man’chi Machigi invoked was the old way. There’d been an institution among atevi a long time ago, before the aishidi’tat . . . a way of settling things, a specialized negotiator. The white ribbon had gotten to mean the paidhi-aiji, the human interpreter’s unique badge of office, over the last couple of centuries. And he’d represented both sides of the human-atevi divide . . . until it just wasn’t that divided, nowadays.
But he did wear the white ribbon. He’d been sent into the house of an enemy—and Machigi, out of a district that hadn’t, over all, ever adopted Ragi ways, any more than Ilisidi’s East had ever done, had just called him on it.
He’d probably, he thought, turned a shade of white.
“One is honored by your suggestion,” he said, trying to appear unruffled, and told himself it was actually encouraging that Machigi was willing to consider him in the mediator’s role . . . a role in which he had some protection—as long as Machigi was willing to play by the ancient book, and so long as the negotiations didn’t collapse.
Mortality among ancient negotiators had been tolerably high as one party or other decided to terminate the negotiations—and terminate the negotiator, who now knew too much—all in one stroke. Ancient rulers had used to saddle spare relatives and very old courtiers with that duty.
And of all lords he could ever represent, Machigi of the Taisigin Marid was not at the top of his preferences.
“It is not a forgotten custom in the Marid.”
“So—yes. If you have that confidence in me, nandi, send me to Najida, and I shall state your positions to the dowager and come back again with precise offers.”
Machigi pursed his lips slightly. “Not yet. Not yet, nand’ paidhi. Your continued presence is, one trusts, no great inconvenience to anyone at this moment.”
Well, he
was still stuck. But they were still being polite. He assumed a pleasant expression and inclined his head in calm acceptance. “I am willing,” he said, and decided to go for all else he could get. “And in no hurry. Though continued phone contact with Najida would be a decided convenience. Most particularly, I would wish to send the bus back to Targai. It is very cramped quarters for them and cannot be pleasant.”
“We have offered local accommodation for those aboard.”
Of course Machigi had. “Indeed,” Bren said, “but they are the aiji’s and not directly under my command while I am separate from them. I am, quite frankly, interested in preventing any misunderstanding out there. I would like to send everyone back except myself and my personal guard. One has utmost confidence in your hospitality—and I hope not to wreck these negotiations on a missed communication. Let us clear the area of all persons who might make a mistake.”
Machigi smiled, and this time a little of it did reach the eyes. “We both understand.”
“Understand me, nandi, that I am quite serious in my representations to you. You have an opportunity that has not existed for the last two hundred years.”
“Since we were robbed of the west coast, in fact.”
“What advantage, nandi, to hold the west coast at continual warfare with the center and the West and the station aloft—when you have a fair offer of access to the East, the untrammeled freedom of the seas, and a presence on the station? There is every advantage in that agreement. There is nothing held back from you.”
“Except the west coast.”
“It is small compared to the scope you can have elsewhere.”
“Little profit to me in exposing myself to assassination by your allies.”
“We can, nandi, get past the infelicitous history of relations, even recent ones, even the matter between you and Lord Geigi, if we may be specific. We have his nephew Baiji in custody. You have no further use for him, one assumes, but the dowager has—in terms of the bloodline he carries and in terms of her concern for Lord Geigi. So it would be convenient for Lord Geigi officially to forget Baiji’s indiscretions, which is the course one is sure he will take. He is a practical man. Besides, Lord Geigi’s primary interest is in returning to the station.”