Instead, her son Valasi had grown up as a Ragi lord, had ruled with a hard hand. Valasi had died, not as an old man—some blamed Ilisidi herself, or Tabini—and the legislature had pointedly skipped over Ilisidi’s suggestion that her election as aiji of the aishidi’tat might ‘stabilize’ the association. The legislature had appointed Tabini as aiji at a very young age, to the frustration of certain conservative lords—notably Tatiseigi, notably the Kadigidi.
By all he had heard, it had been a battle royal in the legislature. Tabini had been young, full of ideas, combative with Wilson-paidhi, who had resigned in distress. So Tabini had gotten a new paidhi-aiji. Him. A paidhi considered too young for his job, too. They’d had that in common from the start.
They’d taken too much to each other, perhaps.
They’d gotten too much done too fast, debatably so, in the opinion of very many people these days. Lucky or not—they’d been able to respond when humans arrived in space and reopened the abandoned space station. If they hadn’t been ready, having pushed their technology past airplanes, to the brink of a space program—another loop of the fugue—they’d have watched the space station and possibly Mospheira itself run by a very problematic human authority. Those were the facts, but they weren’t facts with which the conservatives could be at peace. Ever.
They certainly weren’t facts the legislature loved, when the old men of the tashrid, the house of lords, got together to bemoan the younger generation.
Now, failing response from Tabini, with a Kadigidi upstart calling himself aiji, but not highly regarded in the central regions, in the very heart of his power, the Guild, which had sat paralyzed, might well move to install Ilisidi as regent for Cajeiri—and some few easterners might even hope to lose Cajeiri in some convenient accident. A move to install Ilisidi as a strong regent might gain support from Tabini’s followers as well as from old-line conservatives like Tatiseigi. Various factions, united in their dislike of a Kadigidi aiji, might logically reconsider their support of the usurper and line up temporarily behind Ilisidi.
But politics—politics—politics. It would be bloody.
“ ’Gini-ji?” A sudden thought. “Does one suppose this house might already have sent some secret message to Tabini?”
“Again, we have inquired, and gotten no answer. But we all think it far more likely Taiben has, nandi.”
Of course. Taiben certainly would have contacted Tabini, if that district knew where to reach him. By mecheita, or even by phone—granted a phone line was still uncut or untapped in the district of Taiben, most notably the phone lines that followed the railroad . . . they might have just phoned him and said, The dowager is back.
While the Atageini staff kept refusing questions. Interesting. Disturbing.
And Algini sat watch, when he was in the apartment, and there was really no need. Reality came crashing in.
“Why are you standing guard, ’Gini-ji? Is something afoot?”
Algini shrugged. “The Atageini staff has gone on alert, nandi. One believes, in dispute between the Atageini and the Kadigidi, the staff foresees action. Possibly tonight. Possibly earlier. They have resources of information we do not.”
“So will a message go to the Guild, ’Gini-ji?”
“Uncertain. One has no idea.” Algini only cast a warning look at the ceiling. Not another word, that look said. God knew why.
Disturbing. A move underway, likely tentative, perhaps some forewarning. He envisioned the dowager, perhaps, being better able to politic without him. He could leave his files with her. He could withdraw to a more remote place, out of range. She had witnessed everything that needed swearing to, out in remote space. She and Cajeiri could tell everything that he could tell.
Certainly if he wanted to lessen the pressure on the situation here, there was Taiben for a retreat—and the foothills, on the other side, the forested skirts of those mist-hidden mountains. The mountain villages were, unlike the lowlands, not highly associated with the capital. The web of associations there looked more like a tangle, this village allied to one over the ridge, but not to the one nearest. In the old days, back when the Atageini house had had reason to be a fortress, those hills out the window had been a region of feuding chiefs and not a little outright banditry. As a refuge, it had its advantages. But it took a reference book to figure out the man’chiin involved between the villages, some of which territory neighbored Kadigidi land, for good or for ill.
Third loop of the fugue. What in hell was he thinking? Run from here? Retreat? Look for safety, where he could only endanger the Taibeni, or those villages, less prepared than the Atageini to hold trouble at bay?
A railroad linked the principal villages, and ran up to the highlands University, the apex of civilization in the district, itself lying outside man’chi and as neutral to all parties as it was possible to be, give or take minor allegiances to those lords and powers who endowed it—hoping an institution of learning would bring greater prosperity and less banditry to the region.
They had taken that route once, when they went up to visit the observatory. He remembered game running beside the antiquated train. Remembered a long climb up and down.
A lightning stroke. The hills.
The university.
The Astronomer Emeritus, Grigiji. The observatory, remote in the hills. A revered old man all but worshipped by his students, beloved by the court—but a man not likely in great favor with the new regime, his work having abetted Tabini’s efforts to reach into space. Another likely to be threatened by the upheaval.
Up in those hills, toward the mountains. Grigiji.
Where better to keep an eye to the sky, to know when the ship had returned, even when the shuttle launched?
He felt a chill. He decided he didn’t want to know Tabini’s whereabouts. He didn’t want to have that supposition in his head, remembering another time, early in his association with Ilisidi, when he’d been caught and questioned, very unpleasantly.
He wished he could talk freely with his staff, a free and open conference. But this wasn’t the place. Bad enough risk they’d run, discussing the letter and the Guild. But Tatiseigi had to find out they were up to something, or he’d only listen the harder.
Fugue done. Threads knit. Wide awake. He looked uneasily at the sky—momentary flash of steel and plastics, close corridors. Jase. What are you up to? he wondered, feeling a little forlorn. Can’t say I wish you were here at the moment. Not a good situation.
Flash of open sea and heaving deck underfoot. Hope you made it home, brother. And maybe got some fishing done. Stay out there, if you get the choice. Don’t be answering questions from the press. That game’s no good for a relationship. Good luck to you and Barb.
From brain-wearying fugue to a last few flashes of distance-spanning longing, pieces of him stretched thin. He’d never moved from the window. But he’d been on a long, scattered journey. Likely the tea was cold. He’d had only a single cup, and he’d learned it was precious, in the economy of the universe. He went and poured himself a tepid cup, drank it anyway, sitting in the well-padded chair. He was mentally tired, even physically tired after the mind-trip he’d taken. Curious how the brain wore the body out, and how it didn’t work the other way around.
He shut his eyes, wishing he didn’t know what he suspected he knew, but what—he reassured himself—Tatiseigi and his whole staff and the Kadigidi likely knew. He waited, cradling his lukewarm teacup. He thought about marauding Kadigidi creeping through the topiary hedges.
Over near the door Algini, clearly bored, stripped and oiled his gun, waiting. Bren smelled the oil. He didn’t need to look. He smelled the thousand scents that wafted through the open window. Curious, how many, many different scents a planet had, each freighted with significance.
Hadn’t taken him long at all to acclimate to negatively-curved horizons. He wondered if Jase would get queasy again, after being back in his element so long.
Deep sigh. A state near sleep, hindbrain running autopilot. Th
e teacup was still safe in his hands. He probably should ask Algini to do the same maintenance for his gun, which, with Shawn’s computer attachment, was tucked into his gear.
Steps outside, ordinarily beneath his hearing, audible in the general hush. Algini got up.
Heavy steps. Several. Algini opened the door. Banichi and Jago were back.
“Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and came and sat down in the opposite chair, Jago standing behind him. Banichi set arms on his knees and leaned very close. “Tano has been out by the stables. He reports there have been numerous mecheiti here before the rain, for what that may mean, and now there are only five, besides ours. Cenedi is aware. Possibly it is as mundane as the movement of an Atageini herd to the hills, after use in the hunt. On the other hand, there might have been visitors here in the last few days that the lord has simply not mentioned.”
Tatiseigi, the old fox, had made a career of holding everyone’s secrets, and moving very suddenly in the direction that gained him most. A patrol sent out, and never mentioned? Visitors, from one faction or the other, a diplomatic mission from the Kadigidi?
And not a word yet about his carefully crafted letter to the Guild. His brain threatened to enter fog-state again, having ten new things to process, none of them pleasant.
“Dare we speak, nadiin-ji?”
Banichi moved his eyes to the left, a slight warning. Bren bit his lip, increasingly uneasy in this luxurious, secretive house, and needing, dammit, more information.
“Lord Tatiseigi has read your letter, nandi, and is considering the matter.”
So Ilisidi had sent it on, implying she thought it should be sent. Tatiseigi was considering. And Algini indicated they were fast running out of time.
Things absolutely had to be said. “Come,” he said to them, and went to the writing desk.
He enlivened the computer screen. Wrote:
I have a wild guess, nadiin-ji, where Tabini is: with Grigiji.
Leaning over his shoulder, they read it, absorbed that with a little gratifying expression of surprise and a glance exchanged between them.
He wrote further: Algini says that the Kadigidi may make a move tonight. What Tano found at the stables may mean there has been diplomatic traffic from the Kadigidi—or from Tabini-aiji—or simply that there are more Atageini patrols out that his staff has never mentioned. One hopes for either of the last two.
Banichi signaled that he would answer. He dropped to one knee, took the computer, balancing it while he entered, hunt and peck with his much larger hand, and a telegraphic brevity:
The dowager says if Tatiseigi acts against her interests her staff will act against him, but that situation remains uncertain. She has considered Cenedi’s plan to move against the Kadigidi, which would seize the initiative and make it more sure that Tatiseigi cannot waver in his alliance with her. He has also proposed to her that the paidhi take the heir and withdraw to some unknown place, maybe Taiben. If the heir were not here, it would complicate the Kadigidi’s situation and divide their attention. Should something befall Cenedi and the dowager come to odds with our host, the boy would not be in Lord Tatiseigi’s hands.
My God, he thought, and reached for the computer.
Does she think she is in danger from Tatiseigi? I cannot believe Cenedi would give up Ilisidi as lost in that event. Whose interest is he protecting?
Banichi took the computer. We are not confident in Cenedi’s plan. Cenedi may not survive a mission against the Kadigidi, with or without our assistance, and he will rely only on us, not on the Atageini staff. He strongly believes there are spies in the house. He mentions the primitive nature of much of the monitoring equipment and communication here, which will be penetrated by the Kadigidi in any determined attack, and may give them access to our transmissions. Tano and Algini might go with him, and their help would at least raise the odds of his success, but Murini is much more likely resident in Shejidan, which means a very difficult operation, whether to draw him out to his province, or go after him in the capital. Your staff is not willing to throw all resources into this mission. If Cenedi should fail and we were all with him, no one but Tatiseigi’s staff would protect you, Cajeiri, the dowager, and the resistance to Murini. This is not acceptable, and we will not take that course. We do not support Cenedi’s proposal.
He seized the computer, then hardly knew what to say. It is absolutely not useful that the Guild see the heir as under my influence. I am the worst possible guardian for him. This is not feasible, nadiin-ji.
Jago reached for the machine. Typed: If you are correct that the aiji is at the observatory, putting Cajeiri into his father’s hands would be one answer to criticism.
He wrote, in his turn, rapid fire: I am by no means certain the aiji is there, nor do I have great hopes of reaching him with the boy in tow. And if I deliver him to his father—forgive me, nadiin-ji, but right now the dowager can attract the more conservative elements of the aishidi’tat, but Tabini-aiji is at disadvantage in that regard, and to have me and the boy join him does not answer the criticism of human influence in the situation. Does this house staff believe it can withstand an incursion tonight, granted Tatiseigi is being forthright with the dowager about his man’chi?
Banichi shrugged. “Baji-naji, Bren-ji.”
Dice-throw, that was to say. In Cenedi’s best plan, they were down to attempting to assassinate Murini, an aiji with a following, and all-out clan warfare, regional warfare, was likely as a consequence. This was where the Assassins’ Guild in Shejidan was supposed to step in, to declare which claimant to supreme power it supported. It should eliminate the loser and restore peace and balance.
But Cenedi would have the fat in the fire before the Guild could get into action, if Cenedi proceeded against Murini’s clan, Tatiseigi’s neighbors.
Unless his letter to the Guild could persuade Tatiseigi there was substance enough to throw his prestige behind it and affix his seal as a lord in support of his appeal, it would never reach the Guild at all.
Phoning that appeal in—was possible, if they could hijack a line; but a phone message was only informative. Legally, paper needed to be there, with house seals: the Guild operated by rules, with paper, with seals, with incontrovertible Filed evidence. A phone call had no legal standing.
But even if the physical letter did get there under seal, past all obstacles including Tatiseigi and Kadigidi interception, it was unlikely to produce immediate action. Unless the Guild had been waiting for some excuse to support Tabini, and fell upon his letter of appeal to the Guild as exactly the small legality they needed to have on record, they would not move fast enough.
Stalemate in the Guild. At best outcome, he was going to get a summons to a Guild hearing that would produce his safe conduct in a few days, but that did nothing to defend them tonight. Their immediate defense was in their own hands. The dowager’s young men, though decorative, were certainly not ornament. Neither, above all else, was Cenedi—who, yes, stood a marginal chance of doing exactly what he proposed: he was that good.
But the moment he left, then what did they get? Tatiseigi with the dowager under his roof and Cenedi off in Kadigidi territory? The heir here with her, in Tatiseigi’s hands?
It was a line of thought that he really, truly didn’t like.
He wrote: The moment Cenedi separates himself from the dowager, we would have far less means under this roof to resist whatever Tatiseigi might decide to do.
Banichi replied: Tatiseigi is ambitious. This has never changed. One doubts he would harm the dowager, but he would seize the upper hand if he could get it. Moving the heir out of his reach would mean the boy would not return to Tatiseigi unless the dowager sent for him.
His turn. Has she agreed with Cenedi? Has she asked this of us?
Banichi nodded.
He wrote: And it has to be done now, if it is to be done.
Another nod.
He wrote: If my letter is to go out, it must go within the hour, it seems, or risk falling afoul of her p
lans. Is there no way to persuade the lord and the dowager to work together?
Banichi and Jago exchanged a look, and then Jago took the computer.
We have argued strongly with Cenedi to defend this house and not to make this assault into Kadigidi territory. Cenedi believes this house is ultimately indefensible and that it is safer to carry the attack to the Kadigidi rather than to rely on the lord’s antiquated equipment. We believe that his making this attack will be a fatal error, but we expect the dowager will allow it. She generally yields to Cenedi in such affairs. The security deficits are demonstrable, a surprise even to Cenedi, and we have no standing to dispute him.
He wrote: Can I persuade her?
Banichi took the computer back this time, and thought a moment. Find her another course.
Twice damn. As easy to move a river in spate than divert the dowager from her intentions, especially when she failed to trust her former lover and Cenedi’s was the only advice.
And they all sat and acted under a roof where they could not talk freely, not only for fear of Tatiseigi overhearing, but for fear of Kadigidi spies.
He took the computer back. “I shall write another letter, nadiin-ji. This one to her. Thank you.”
They understood. They left him to it, for what little time they might have. And he sat in front of the computer and buried his face in his hands, shutting out the light, trying to think.
Then he wrote:Bren-paidhi to the esteemed aiji-dowager. Aiji-ma, if my continued presence in this household is in any wise a hindrance to negotiations you may see fit to conduct, I am prepared to withdraw and seek safety elsewhere. You might view a changed situation if you did not also bear the burden of protecting and defending me. I believe strongly that I can guess where Tabini is, and will undertake to reach him, since it seems little likely that I can reach Shejidan. I would also undertake to bring your grandson safely to his father if it seems wise or politic to you to entrust him to me. You might go with me, too, aiji-ma, but these are matters in which I can only offer alternatives, by no means advice to one wise and clever. The paidhi urges in the strongest terms that you spend no force agressively, but defend this house, allying yourself with Tatiseigi in that enterprise, with which he will much better agree. This close alliance between you and the Atageini, the paidhi believes, will not be what the opposition hopes to see, and the Kadigidi may be provoked into a succession of rash and expensive attacks which may wear down their forces and diminish their respect and their stature. One failure to penetrate your defenses will make them seem weaker than many have thought. Two failures will begin to make them look like fools. Three would cut deeply into their resources. And in the defense of Atageini land against the Kadigidi, one strongly suspects even Taiben would render assistance.