They were all wired for the slightest hint of trouble. Expecting it.
And a slight rap at the door drew Bren’s instant sharp attention.
Household staff never waited for an acknowledgement when they knocked. Neither did his bodyguard. And indeed, the door immediately opened. It was Banichi himself . . . a looming shadow in the black uniform of his Guild. Ebon-skinned, golden-eyed, and a head and shoulders taller than a tall human, Banichi fairly well filled even an atevi-scale doorway.
And when Banichi ran errands, it wasn’t about tea or the delivery of mail.
“Bren-ji.” They were on intimate terms, he and all his bodyguard: he preferred it that way. “Tabini-aiji is approaching the front door.”
“The aiji.” Bren shoved back from the desk, appalled. Tabini was supposed to be safe in the capital. And he was here? On the decidedly unsafe west coast? Unannounced?
Bren got up and immediately took account of his coat—it was a simple beige and blue brocade for office work on a quiet day. The shirt cuffs—a modest amount of lace—he had carefully kept out of the ink in his writing a few notes. His fingers, however—
But it was late to make any improvement. Tabini didn’t stand waiting for anybody, and safety dictated Tabini should move fast if he was moving about the region.
In very fact, Bren heard the outer door open in the instant of thinking that. Banichi turned to check, took his station at the open door, and in a moment more, his partner Jago arrived and took her place: bookends, on one side of the office door and the other, while a heavy tread in the hallway heralded a second, armed advent through that open door.
The aiji’s senior bodyguard, two grim-faced men in Guild black, arrived and took their positions, automatic rifles in clear evidence.
Then Tabini-aiji himself, aiji of the aishidi’tat, lord of all the world except the human enclave, walked into the office. Black and red constituted the Ragi colors, the clan to which Tabini belonged . . . but Tabini wore no red today: Tabini blended with his black-clad bodyguard, right down to black lace cuffs. It was a mode of camouflage Tabini had used occasionally even in the halls of the Bujavid, since his return to the aijinate. He had used it habitually in that uneasy year he had spent on the run, and narrowly avoiding assassination.
A blond, pale-skinned human in a pale beige coat stood in quiet, domestic contrast to that dark and warlike company. His little office was now entirely overwhelmed with Guildsmen, all armed with automatic weapons, on alert and on business—not to mention Tabini’s own forceful presence.
Bren made a modest bow. “Aiji-ma.”
“Nand’ paidhi.” Tabini’s tone was pleasant enough. “One rejoices to find you in good health, considering your recent trouble.”
“Well, indeed, aiji-ma. And your great-grandmother and your son are both well under my roof, one is very glad to say.”
“The paidhi graciously accepted my son as his guest for—was it some seven days?”
A second bow, deeper. Numerical imprecision with any ateva was implicit irony. “Aiji-ma, one can only apologize for the succession of events.” A near-drowning and an assassination attempt were not the degree of care the aiji had a right to expect for his son on a holiday visit. “One has no excuse.”
“My wayward son is only one of my concerns in this district.”
He was remiss in his hospitality. He was utterly remiss. The aiji had arrived with the force of a thunderstorm, with considerable display of armed force, and the suddenness and implied violence had thrown his mind entirely off pace. Household staff would not be far from the door—hovering near, but too fearful to come in to the crowded office.
“Might one offer a modest tea, aiji-ma?” A round of tea was the ordinary course of any civil visit, even a visit on serious business. Tea first, and a space for quiet reflection for both parties, even in advance of knowing the reason of the call. “We could adjourn to the sitting room, should the aiji wish . . .”
“Doubtless my grandmother will drown us in tea in a moment,” Tabini said, still standing, arms folded, amid his guard. “The paidhi, however, can be relied upon to tell me the truth without an agenda, so my first visit is to you. What should we know?”
The paidhi indeed knew what was going on in the district. And the paidhi’s heartbeat picked up. It was a wonder the aiji couldn’t hear it from across the room.
Tell the aiji his grandmother had just promised the Edi, a hitherto warlike ethnic group, a province and a seat of their own in the legislature?
Tell the aiji his grandmother had happened to involve the aiji’s son and heir in her promises to the Edi, as a reaction to the Marid foray into Sarini Province . . . the Edi being the Marid’s ancestral enemies?
“Aiji-ma.” He could personally use a cup of tea. Anything, for a social ritual and barrier. But he had no such delay, had nothing to occupy his hands and no recourse but complete honesty. “Regarding the involvement of the Marid in the neighborhood . . . the aiji surely already knows that matter.” The aiji had a large intelligence network to tell him that. “The matter of the meeting at Najida, however . . .” He drew a breath. “The aiji knows that the Edi clan staff had withdrawn its services from Kajiminda. This was in displeasure at young Baiji’s dealings with the South. The proposed marriage—”
“We are aware. Continue.”
“An Edi representative approached Najida covertly, advising me as their neighbor, and advising your great-grandmother as a person of revered presence, that the Edi clan was active on the aiji’s behalf during the recent Troubles. The Edi claim to have kept the usurper’s regime from controlling this coast. They claim to have continued this action, allied with the Gan people in the North, in the face of Kajiminda’s flirtation with the South. They say that the network that protected the coast from Southern occupation during the Troubles still persists. The group that has made contact with me and with the aiji-dowager . . .”
“Who has promised them a province and a lordship! Is this astonishing news true, paidhi?”
He bowed his head. “True, aiji-ma.”
“With the attendance of my minor son at the meeting!”
“That is true, aiji-ma.”
Tabini glowered. It was not pleasant to be the center of that contemplation.
“Why, paidhi, did this seem to anyone a good idea?”
“One finds oneself, officially, in a difficult position with the Edi, aiji-ma. Overmuch discussion on this matter might compromise the paidhi’s usefulness to the aiji in negotiations, but it does seem to the paidhi-aiji that there may be advantage in considering this proposal. If one may explain—”
“We appreciate the delicacy. Continue in plain words, paidhi-aiji! And limit them!”
“The Edi’s reluctance to deal with the aiji’s clan persists. That has not changed. But they are finding themselves constrained by events. They claim that they supported your regime during the Troubles and will be willing to do so now—their old enemies the Marid having backed the other side. This offer has a certain urgency, in light of the Marid move against Kajiminda.”
“Ha!”
“Additionally—” His allegiance should be to Tabini, wholly, unequivocally. An ateva would have trouble feeling any other thing. A human—a human was hardwired for ambivalent loyalties. It made a human particularly good at the job he did for Tabini.
But it made relationships a little chancier, and led, sometimes, to dangerous misunderstandings.
“One hopes the aiji will not doubt my man’chi to the aijinate and to him, personally. But the Edi request my good offices in negotiation—and they request me, as their neighbor, to maintain a certain discretion regarding their actions . . . a request with which I sense no conflict with my man’chi, aiji-ma, in regard to any—past event.”
“Be careful, paidhi. Not everyone in the aishidi’tat understands your motives. And one doubts that the Edi fully appreciate the workings of your human mind.”
A bow. “One is keenly aware, aiji-ma, that one is neit
her Edi nor Ragi. One suspects this approach on their part represents a test of some sort.”
“A test, and not a maneuver for advantage?”
It was a good question. A dangerous question, worth considering. And he had. “One rather perceives it is a test, aiji-ma. And in my perception, such as it is, their secrecy in asking this meeting has in no wise involved ill intent toward the aiji or his representatives—rather a desire of the Edi to continue their actions under their own direction.”
“Ha! No different than they have ever demanded!”
“But these are not the foundational days, aiji-ma. These have been troubled times up and down the coast. And the Edi have behaved civilly. Thus far—thus far, they have preserved this estate during the Troubles, and kept my staff safe . . .”
“Because their worst enemies are on the other side.” Tabini unfolded his arms and took two vigorous steps to the side before looking at him askance. “One takes it you have already—under the aiji-dowager’s encouragement—agreed to this arrangement?”
Bluntly put. Bren bit his lip. “Initially, and on the paidhi’s best judgement, aiji-ma, yes.” A deep breath. “The confidences they have given me thus far are reasonably minor, which is why I say it is a test of confidentiality. Should these confidences ever involve questionable activities—” Smuggling was only one of the local industries. Piracy was another. “Should there be criminal action—one would still feel constrained to maintain a certain discretion on their behalf, to keep the compact alive, and to keep channels of communication open, for the aiji’s ultimate benefit. The point is, one cannot be totally forthcoming to you, aiji-ma, and simultaneously maintain their confidence in me. They wish me to step aside somewhat from my attachment to the aiji: evidently they wish me to mediate on their behalf.”
A snort, an outright snort. “Ha! So they want the human! Therein lies their isolation from the mainland! They were the ones to come too close to your people on the island, paidhi-aiji, not we! If you look for the causes of the War of the Landing, look to the Edi, who thought they could live in two houses at once.”
“We say—sit on the fence, aiji-ma. Having a foot in either of two territories.”
“Descriptive.”
“Humans do truly understand this behavior, aiji-ma. But my two-mindedness is a capacity that has served you. Whether the aiji chooses to grant me latitude in this case—will dictate how useful the paidhi may be as a negotiator in this matter.”
“That latitude has operated profitably in the past.”
When he had represented the human government on Mospheira. For the last number of years he had represented the aiji in Shejidan with a closeness that had moved further and further from representing his own species. Perhaps some atevi had begun to think he had profoundly changed in that regard. But, on the other hand, some still suspected his motives as secretly pro-human.
“It may not improve my acceptance among Ragi, aiji-ma, but yes, it could be profitable for me to do so. And my man’chi to you will not vary. It will not.”
“Granted, granted,” Tabini said. Which was what had made Tabini rare among atevi—an ateva willing to use a little blind faith, with adequate safeguards. “Provided you take no chances with your own safety. We are not willing to lose the paidhi-aiji. Especially to the Marid!”
Appalling thought. “One will certainly take adequate precautions.”
“You are understaffed here. Woefully understaffed.”
“Aiji-ma—one is compelled to rely on Edi clan irregulars for more extended security. And this does make me uneasy, since it is a security which involves the safety of the aiji-dowager and of your son, aiji-ma, for which I feel personally responsible. But one sees no choice. One cannot make this house or Kajiminda—in their eyes—a Ragi base of operations—or we lose a valuable ally, and the hope of alliance.”
“Hence your failure to appeal for reinforcement.”
Embarrassing. He bowed. “Yes, aiji-ma.”
“Never mind my grandmother’s obstinacy in the case. Have these Edi the force and the organization to protect this whole district?”
“One doubts they could adequately do that, aiji-ma.” He saw what Tabini was aiming at. “They have been effective in holding this peninsula. One believes this is the territory they will insist on holding. Your forces, I understand, have Kajiminda Peninsula secure.”
A snort. Another brisk stride. Two. “As secure as a wooded peninsula can be. You know you are making yourself a target, paidhi. And a target of more than Southern ambitions. The central clans will hear that the paidhi-aiji has abandoned neutrality in this matter: that he has affiliated with a specific district, specifically one they have never favored.”
“One is aware, aiji-ma, that there may be that future difficulty.”
“More than a small difficulty. And not far in the future.” A pause, and a direct, calculating look. “One would surmise you want the Farai out of your apartment.”
The Farai had camped in his capital apartment since the coup, and persisted there after Tabini’s return from exile: during the Marid’s new approach to dealing with the aiji’s authority, they had been politically difficult to toss out on their ear. Which was why the paidhi had come to his west coast estate for a quiet retreat.
At which point the Marid, finding him lodged next door to their plot at Kajiminda, had promptly attempted to assassinate him.
Which was, of course, why he had the erstwhile lord of Kajiminda locked in his basement.
“My greatest concern in the capital, aiji-ma, would be your security. The return of my apartment would be a great favor to me, yes. But the Marid is up to something, I have partially exposed it, and the Farai are lodged next to your apartment wall: that situation more concerns me. This whole scheme is aimed at their gaining the coast and reopening the war. That makes the Farai a hazard where they are.”
A grunt. A wave of the hand. “Explaining this construction of conspiracies will take preparation. One will make known the paidhi’s displeasure with the South, and his current personal grievance against the Marid. That will explain certain of the paidhi’s moves to public opinion.”
It would go a certain way toward justifying his actions, in public opinion. If the South had attempted to assassinate the paidhi, and that event became public knowledge, the paidhi’s moves against Southern ventures on the west coast achieved complete justification in the atevi way of looking at things . . . and not just for a quarrel regarding a Bujavid apartment. It was a great favor, and politically astute, that the aiji should put that information out through the aiji’s own channels.
“One is very grateful, aiji-ma.” He was, in fact. It lessened very major difficulties. It didn’t solve them, not with the most determined of his detractors. It would, however, make reasonable people think better of him. “But I remain concerned about your grandmother and your son being in this situation with me. The aiji-dowager has been helpful, even instrumental in starting this negotiation, but if you could persuade her—”
“An earthquake could not budge my grandmother,” Tabini said with a wave of his hand. “I shall at least talk to her. Where is she?”
“One believes, in her rooms, aiji-ma.” A bow, a gesture toward the door. One did not dismiss the aiji of the aishidi’tat to a household servant’s guidance. A lord escorted him where he wished to go, and relied on the bodyguards—his, and Tabini’s, to quietly exchange information in the background. If the dowager were not in her rooms, his staff would quietly redirect them . . . but crowded as the house had become, it was certainly a small range of possibilities, and they were already in the office.
It was a short walk, out into the wood-paneled hall, with the stained-glass window at the end, darkened now by storm-shielding, down that direction to a paneled door. Banichi’s single rap drew immediate attention from within. The door opened, Cenedi himself doing that office from inside. The aiji strode ahead into the dowager’s personal sitting room with a loud, “Grandmother?”
I
lisidi was sitting in a comfortable wing chair by the fireplace, a notebook in her lap, the picture of anyone’s kindly grandmother. Her hair was liberally salted with white, her dark face was a map of years, and she was diminutive for her kind, only human-sized. But the golden eyes had lost none of their spark and snap, and she was dressed in a brocade day-coat the collar of which sparkled with diamonds . . . the hell she hadn’t gotten wind of this visit.
And considering the force of the two personalities about to engage, the paidhi-aiji decided it was time for a tactical retreat. Bren began to back toward the door.
“Stay, paidhi!” the dowager snapped. “You may be useful.”
He stopped. “Aiji-ma,” he murmured and, beside Banichi, Jago, the aiji’s guard, and Cenedi, the chief of Ilisidi’s guard, he took a place along the wall, beside a tall porcelain figurine of the recent century.
Tabini-aiji, meanwhile, settled for a casual stance by the fireplace, in which only a trace of fire burned above the embers. “Well,” he said, elbow on the mantel, “honored grandmother. A new province? Or is it two? War with the Marid? When shall we declare it? Do tell me.”
“We have no need to declare it,” Ilisidi snapped. “They did. Sit down, grandson! We have a stiff neck this morning.”
“We shall be reasonably brief,” Tabini said, not sitting down, “since we are assured rumors of your ill health are exaggerated . . .”
“Entirely.”
“So—having set in motion this interesting chain of events on the coast, will you now fly off and resume your affairs in the East? Or have you quite done with matters in this province?”
“Oh, we are not yet satisfied, grandson. We do not leave a situation to ferment for five decades!”
“You tried to push this establishment of the Edi lordship on my grandfather! And my father!”
“Their half-measures produced this situation!” Ilisidi snapped. “If they had listened to us in the first place, we would not have the difficulties that now present themselves!”