“He will understand,” Cajeiri said, “if we were to pass word to him to come later, he would well understand.”
“He has done us a great favor,” Uncle said. “At personal risk. One hears there were two shots that struck the plane.”
“One hopes he is uninjured,” Mother said.
“Fervently we hope it,” Uncle said. “But Guild in Diegi is taking good care of him. Meanwhile we have our own difficulties: another inundation of Ajuri, these less trusted but in our keeping. Ruheso informs me we have an infelicity of forty-four in custody, sixteen in uniform, the rest in civilian clothes, twelve taken at the bridge, thirty-two taken in the assault on the Taibeni camp, evidently with the intent to reach the gates with explosives. One hesitates even to mention the inclusion of armed civilians with Guild leadership, on which I am sure Guild Council will have a word. These folk are arriving by truck. To keep them from escaping and returning to Ajiden at this juncture, we may now have to put them under canvas and keep the other Ajuri in our lower hall, or have the two groups come to blows. I have sent word down to our guest that we have such a difficulty, and I am officially, in the name of the Atageini, curious to hear his response—your pardon.”
Someone had come running up from the stairs, one of the house guard, a woman who presented herself at Uncle’s signal, and gave a little bow. “Nandi. He wishes to see you. He wishes to see these people. He wishes to meet them and speak to them.”
“That might be useful. Bring them up. Bring them all up, as many as wish to come, his followers as well.” Uncle looked at the two of them. “It might be well for you to go upstairs. At least for the young aiji to go upstairs.”
“Respected Uncle,” Cajeiri said. “No. I wish to hear this.”
Mother darted a worried glance at him.
“I have my aishid.”
“Two of them disabled.”
“Two able, and a very senior unit, Mother, who will protect me, above all else. And I shall stand next to Uncle and you, so we shall all protect each other. You are safer with me and my guard here.”
There was a moment of silence.
“We shall bring up more kit,” Janachi said. “Daja-ma, and no one in custody from events tonight may come up here unrestrained. This is a requirement.”
“So,” Cajeiri said. “Uncle?”
“With that restriction,” Uncle said. “These are historic premises. We shall have no gunfire, nadiin, none.”
“We shall have that understood,” Janachi said.
So they waited.
Adrenalin had somewhat ebbed. It was surely past midnight, and events and decisions had begun to pass in a kind of charged fog. Cajeiri sat still, beside Mother, beside Uncle. He had a little doubt of his own good sense—of everyone’s good sense, inviting a confrontation up here, in so much space. And it began to occur to him that Mother, being Ajuri, could become entangled in what happened, as much as Nomari. Uncle surely knew it. Mother surely was thinking it.
“Antaro-nadi.” This from Uncle, in the long silence. Unprecedented, that a lord addressed a member of an outsider aishid by name. But Uncle did.
“Nandi.”
“The two-year-old is moving about and eating.”
“One is very glad, nandi.”
“She has even picked a quarrel with her agemates.”
“One is not entirely surprised, nandi. She will not forget what she did when you asked it.”
“Your arm, nadi. What did the hospital say?”
“That you have an excellent physician, nandi. They were entirely complimentary.”
“Indeed.” Uncle nodded, pleased. “I shall tell him.”
There was a quiet commotion, an orderly ascent of the side stairs below, by a number of people. The Ajuri belowstairs were coming up, more than sixty of them, with Nomari and Uncle’s guard, with a few more Guild, who brought up the rear.
“Well,” Uncle said, “now we shall see, shall we not, what this young man has at his core. What will he do, do you think?”
Bringing in Nomari’s supporters—and Great-aunt Geidaro’s, at once—with such a question . . .
Cajeiri drew in a long, slow breath, assembling the thought that, at the moment, he understood why Uncle partnered with mani. It was the same intent, curious expression, that put Nomari in front of his enemies—enemies Geidaro had sent to attack Uncle, or Mother; and who might have attacked Nomari, if the situation had brought them face to face.
Now—what will he do? Uncle asked.
What, Cajeiri wondered, would he do? And what stirred in him said—take them. Lay hold of them. Say what needed to be said and do what needed to be done, and if any of them stood up against him—
Take that person, for the sake of everything that depended on him—because he was responsible.
Nomari came up the stairs first, worried-looking and distracted, and the commotion of sixty and more people followed him. Uncle’s bodyguard spoke to him, indicated where the people should arrange themselves, and they clustered together, looking about, some of them.
“Assistance,” Uncle said, setting the cane he was using, and began to get up. Cajeiri moved to assist, ahead of old Heisi, who assisted from the other side. Uncle moved under his own power once he was on his feet, and his bodyguard was around him. It was clear where Uncle meant to go, to deal with Nomari, and Cajeiri watched anxiously, standing back out of the way, aware that a much more dangerous crowd was to come.
“Nandi,” Nomari met Uncle with a bow.
“I have no decision yet,” Uncle began. “Geidaro not long ago called this house in the belief people who had entered Ajiden were ours. They were not, nor to our knowledge were they sent from Shejidan. This leaves ominous possibilities, and we have passed that word to Shejidan, in respect of the law. In any case, we do not expect Ajuri will continue under that leadership for much longer. What we are prepared to deal with, as having invaded Atageini territory, is a mingled force of civilians and Guild—the latter of whom may be Ajuri. Or may not. In any case—they are not Atageini. The question is—what do you want done with them?”
“You are saying, nandi, that Geidaro may be dead.”
“I am saying that, whatever falls out of this, we have questions as to why these people have attacked the paidhi-aiji’s bus on a public road, and whose orders set this plan in motion. They are yours. Discover answers. And tell me.”
If he were the recipient of that tone and that frown, Cajeiri thought, he would understand Uncle was giving him a chance, and one chance, to settle matters. He wished Nomari to understand that. He watched Nomari’s expression go from worried to resolute, and he hoped—hoped that Nomari would realize—that Uncle was handing him a test. Do this, and gain something—or fail, and lose trust, and lose Ajuri.
He could not signal Nomari. He should not signal him. There was no time for a gentle introduction to a peaceful household. Either Nomari was able to take hold of the situation—or he was not. If he failed, he had a small hope of going back to what he had been—
But it was little likely Ajuri would let him. Or that the remnant of the Shadow Guild would leave him alone, or let those near him have any peace.
It was all here. Now.
“It is in your hands,” Uncle said, “how you will handle this.”
And Uncle turned and walked back to his place. Cajeiri likewise drew back. Uncle told staff to turn his chair. So they turned it to let Uncle observe. And Uncle sat down, cane across his knee, in the hand he could use, and waited and watched.
The foyer doors had shut a few moments ago. Now they opened, opened on the lower stairs, too, all the way to the night air, with a chill, rainy draft and a commotion on the stairs below, nothing distinct, but the tread of feet and a voice giving directions to “Go up, keep in line and be respectful of the premises.”
Guild came first, taking station about the area
with rifles at carry. Then a sad gathering of people trailed up after them, dirty, many muddy from head to foot, and every three tied elbow to elbow, the middle person with neither arm at liberty. Downhearted, distressed, resentful. . . . they were all that, only a few managing to hide all expression.
Nomari and his people outnumbered them—sixty-some clean, quiet, apprehensive people, maybe recognizing the newcomers, or maybe not. It was not certain that all the prisoners were Ajuri. Guild among them had not been specially restrained, just bound to civilians, not their teammates; and without their jackets. They were especially grim-faced; and deeply embarrassed, one could be sure.
How could anybody make something of these people? Cajeiri wondered. They had just attacked a bus and a Taibeni camp on Atageini land and Uncle had Filed Intent on the woman who had given them their orders. They were no longer a threat in the night, injuring Uncle and others. They were prisoners, clustered together in a strange place, facing justice with the Guild and with Father.
“Listen to me,” Nomari said. “You have arrived in a very difficult place tonight, lordless, lordless since Komaji went down, cut off from Shejidan, voiceless in the legislature. Is it all your choice? No. But tonight it is. My name is Nomari, of the line of Nichono, last of her line. Shishogi murdered my family. I escaped. It is no unique story. Many of those with me can say the same. We stand opposed to Shishogi and all his works. We stand opposed to Geidaro, who followed Shishogi until he died. And hearing there were proposals afoot to name a lord—I take it as a responsibility, a man’chi to my father, a son of Nichono, to my mother, a daughter of Lord Benedi, to my brother, who would be standing here if he had survived. I have spent recent years in Transportation, finding ways to move Ajuri that Shishogi was targeting to other places, to safety. Do I know something about Shishogi’s operations? Yes. From the targeted end of them. I know what he did. I have a long list of those he killed—Ajuri and other clans as well, including the aiji-consort’s mother, Lord Tatiseigi’s sister. We have been deadly neighbors to all around us, except Kadagidi, who may yet pay a heavy price for its crimes. But there is innocence left in Ajuri. I know where that is, too. I set my own name into nomination for the lordship, and if I last no longer than Kadiyi or Komaji, so be it. I have come too far not to try. I am the last eligible of the line. Have me, or have chaos, and I promise you, if I come into Ajiden there will be changes. I will not seek revenge, I will not pursue old grudges unless they rear up alive again. I will not have whispers and threats and names no one dares pronounce. Clan council will have its doors open, not guarded. And Ajuri will have an advocate in Shejidan. The aiji-consort, her son the heir apparent, our one-time ally Tatiseigi of the Atageini and the Taibeni as well have said it: we have the connections to regain our good name and make a real peace with our neighbors of the Padi Valley. We can regain our respect in the aishidi’tat, with powerful allies on every hand, or we can go down the dark path Shishogi set. Make your choice. Make it tonight. The Guild that Shishogi corrupted has restored itself. We have a chance to recover ourselves, settle our differences through the Guild, under the aiji in Shejidan, and expect a future for us.”
“Hear him,” somebody shouted from among Nomari’s people. “This is our lord. This is the man who kept us alive. This is the man who risked his life time and again to bring people out of Ajuri. This is the other name no one would speak—because he protected us, he moved us to safety, he gave us warnings, and on one occasion—he killed a man to save us, much against his nature. He did that for us.”
Nomari ducked his head. Lifted it again. “I cannot regret it. I cannot be proud of it. But I never want to face that again. Ajuri has to change. Ajuri cannot go on killing its lords or its children. There is a long, long list of wrongs, and no profit to keeping them endlessly repeating themselves, generation after generation. I call an end to it. I call for an absolute end to it. I do not know you people. I fled Ajuri when I was fifteen, and I know these faces, but not yours—but whoever you are, if you are clanless, if you are Ajuri, if you have a grievance, say it. But if you want an end to the killing—join us.”
A man sank down, pulling his neighbor, and three of them went down together, to their knees. Others did. Even one and another of the Guild.
“Speak for us,” one man said.
“Nandi!” another said. Others said it, and others, “Nichono!”
The air had all of a sudden changed. The room seemed charged with something—not electricity, nothing so sharp; but a power that could be inside or in the air itself, Cajeiri was not sure, a situation on the edge of scary . . . too many people, too much distress, but all of it cycled around one man standing out there, his followers swarming around him and others, some of them, overcome together, meeting some of the exiled, some trying to talk to Nomari, all at once. It was disorderly. It was the sort of thing that made Guild nervous. But, Cajeiri thought, it had to be. It had to be let happen.
Names were exchanged, questions asked, promises made. The whole great hall had started two opposing groups and become one large knot, as so much of anxiety poured out, all about. “I shall tell him,” Nomari said to one person and to another, “I will try to find out, if our neighbor will back me. If Tabini-aiji approves.” And, “Shejidani Guild is moving on Ajiden. We cannot help, even if we could get there, nadi-ji. We cannot. They are trying to protect the staff, the house and grounds. That is what I know.”
And then, “I shall do my best, nadi. I shall ask the Guild.”
Uncle tapped his cane on the floor, a ringing, repeated sound that brought, fairly quickly, silence.
“Nomari-nadi,” Uncle said. “Neighbor. You say you are willing to take the lordship.” A hush fell, everyone listening. “I am willing to support you, should your name be mentioned to the aiji, and that will happen, perhaps tomorrow morning.”
There was a rising murmur. Uncle thumped the cane—Great-grandmother’s style.
“At that point you will have representation again, and I shall have no problem sitting down with your lord to regularize relations, which I trust will wipe out old grievances, and make people of all clans safe in their homes and free from threat—from anyone. Nomari-nadi, orders to your people are your orders, but your host requests that those with assignment below go rest; and those without it, you will be let free. Go out to the tents, which will be guarded against any disturbance of the peace. And do not seek to leave the grounds. Your chances are better with my forgiveness than Guild tolerance, not to mention the Taibeni beyond the gates. We shall not see anyone arrested or held to blame tonight: make your confessions to the grandson of Nichono and let him sort it out. But do it all downstairs, nadiin. We have very little of the night left, and I am an old man who needs his sleep.”
“Nandi.” Nomari gave a deep bow to Uncle. “Aijiin-ma.” To him and to Mother. And to his people. “Come, nadiin. Let us go down. Let us talk for a moment, all of us, before some of us go outside.”
Was that it? Cajeiri asked himself. Was Uncle forgiving them, and was Mother?
They had to. If they went on, the quarrel never stopped, did it, even if Grandfather and Grandmother were dead, and Nomari’s family was, and Geidaro and Meisi might be dead. Even Dejaja. He would be very sad about Dejaja. He hoped—hoped the real Guild moved fast, and that nobody innocent was caught in the situation.
He looked at Mother, saw her frowning and solemn, and likely thinking—thinking about years and people and things Nomari might know, but none of them did. If anybody could stop what Uncle was proposing, Mother could.
Nomari turned back from the crowd of people that was moving down the stairs—where Guild was quietly freeing everybody but Guild in uniform. Nomari came and bowed to him and Mother, and said just, “Thank you. Thank you, aijiin-ma.”
Mother just nodded. Then she said, “Stay alive, Noma-ji. Do not forgive them all. Just stay alive.”
18
Morning. And Jago was not in bed.
That was not uncommon.
But arising, finding the gathering of the whole aishid, in uniform, about the little table in the main room, with the samovar and writing materials—at this hour, with the sun not yet up—
That was not usual.
“Is there a problem?” Bren asked, fearing anything from disaster on the mainland to an imminent assault on Francis House.
“Everything seems quiet now,” Algini said.
“Tea?” Tano asked.
When his aishid offered tea, it was not necessarily without questions or solemn consideration instead of the traditional calm and reflection, but it was, at this hour, a start on whatever problem was up.
He pulled out one of the two remaining chairs, the one next to Banichi, and sat down. Jago offered a teacup and Banichi poured from a teapot that ran a little short.
“It may be bitter, Bren-ji,” Banichi said. “Let us make another.”
“Bitter tea I can drink. Bitter news—one hopes not, nadiin.”
“No. We received a general alert, called down from Lord Geigi. The code was a contingency, with a device that nand’ Toby left with us. We hoped not to receive any such.”
Communications. That had been the package.
“A contingency, nadiin-ji.” Bitter tea was an understatement. They had made it strong. “Guild equipment?” He might have to explain that to Shawn. He needed at least a sketchy knowledge.
“Military,” Banichi said. “So the aiji can contact the navy at any inconvenient remove without the involvement of any Guild. The navy will not be happy to have it with us, and we are asked, in a note from Tabini-aiji, to keep its existence confidential, even from the Guild. It links to Lord Geigi. Who links to the aiji. It activated itself last night with an extensive report more current than nand’ Toby’s. We as yet had no reason for you to intervene, and we decided you might be called to travel today, with need for sleep and a clear head. So it was our judgment. We reconsidered it hour by hour, until your regular waking.”