“This is her idea, is it?”
“None of mine, nandi, one assures you. Machigi will live to rule. He will offer Guild protection to his subordinate lords and they will live to rule the other districts under his direction. The legitimate Guild will gain the leverage in the Marid it has always lacked, and in the process, the Guild will root out every last vestige of the renegades who have established themselves there, while protecting Lord Machigi’s authority. More, the aiji-dowager is strongly urging any new lord of the Edi and the Gan to acquire their own Guild protection—which will have exactly the same effect on their districts. The institution of Guild centered around those three powers, Machigi, the Edi, and the Gan, will completely change the culture of feud and warfare that has characterized the two districts and their relationship to the rest of the aishidi’tat. There is, one believes, brilliant simplicity in this plan, nandi, and the guilds are the key. If the Assassins’ Guild is the channel through which feud and warfare have to move, and if they regain the traditional rules, which they have always maintained, there has to be recourse to the Guild and to Tabini-aiji should anybody wish to come to blows. By and large, they will be far too busy building, which will engage the politics of other guilds, who will have their own interests at risk in any conflict, so they will negotiate rather than fight. Once they have built a prosperous trade, once prosperity has come to the general population—they will find themselves in quite the same situation as the rest of us. They will have fragile goods, systems, and relationships to protect. They will have incomes to protect. They will have an entirely different set of considerations…”
“And rivalries, nandi. They will have rivalries and a tradition of armed conflict.”
“Rivalries that the aforesaid guilds will moderate. Forcibly if need be, but by denial of benefits which will push politics into motion, nandi, and stop wars, as against the interest of this and that entity.”
“This is a dream.”
“It is the aiji-dowager’s dream, nandi, and one suspects you may have heard pieces of it long before she ever brought it into operation. I know that she has been passionate about this from far back, and I believe it has, in this precise moment, found its best opportunity. She is doing more in the East than see to the marriage of Lord Geigi’s misbehaving nephew. She will be talking to numerous of her associates and allies; hence the unforecast delay in her return. One is quite certain that she would not have left so many unresolved questions in my hands if she had had a choice, and it is with the greatest trepidation, nandi, that I have approached you in her stead—hoping to bring you current with everything, because you are so very necessary to her hopes and plans. Therefore, before undertaking any such approach, one felt obliged to satisfy the debt to your hospitality, a debt in which I feel very strongly at disadvantage. It moved me to begin by showing you, even before I bring a similar piece before the Merchants’ Guild, an example of the best of the Marid and to make it yours, in small token of my indebtedness. The work is inspired by the great pillars that stand in the Residency of Tanaja, and I hope I have not offended you in such a gift. It comes from me, not at all from Lord Machigi. I was insistent on that point. And it comes only of my gratitude for your hospitality, no more, no less.”
Oh, that was laying it on. Tatiseigi shot him a straight-on look from under his brows and said, with an increasing level of interest: “Most thoughtful. Your level of taste is quite unexpectedly high, nand’ paidhi.”
And another layer of modesty. “It comes from the hand of an artist respected in Tanaja. I hoped it would suit.”
“It is extraordinary,” Tatiseigi said, for the first time allowing passion to creep into his voice. “It is quite extraordinary. If it is truly from you, and not from that scoundrel Machigi, one may accept it.”
“It is assuredly from me, nandi, as a personal gift that I was happy to make.”
“Ha. Well.” The old man gave a little bow in place and looked as happy as ever one could remember him. “Then one is pleased to accept such a sentiment. My collection at Tirnamardi boasts an item of blue glaze. Do you know what that means?”
“That such an item is a great treasure, nandi, and very, very old.”
“It is only a single cup, but priceless, from the Saie Period.”
Thank God for a little reading—it was before the Great Wave.
“One is astonished. My meager knowledge does tell me it is a true museum piece.”
“It was a time of better relations,” Tatiseigi said. “The artist was Diadin. A signed piece. We understand there are but three in existence.”
It was an hour before he could manage an escape. Lord Tatiseigi had found an audience. And the old man’s expertise was impressive.
“Nandi,” Bren said in parting, “one has so enjoyed this meeting—and the discussion with someone of your breadth of knowledge. I shall certainly look at the Bujavid collection with a more discerning eye, now, and since the very first items in trade that are proposed under the agreement are porcelains and artworks, there can be no better advisor to whom I may refer, if you will be so kind. There is another piece, which Machigi himself ordered from the same artist, for a gift to the aiji and the people of the aishidi’tat, which will be on exhibition in the lower hall. This one I chose for you shows no difference in quality that my untutored eye can discern. The other will be on limited exhibit at first, but one would be very interested to hear your expert assessment of it, and therefore of Machigi’s seriousness in paying a courtesy to Tabini-aiji. If you would possibly find time to view it, one would be glad to have your expert opinion. I confess I chose this one for its beautiful greens, which I intended to honor the Atageini colors.”
“The piece will have a place of honor,” Tatiseigi said. “And I shall perhaps find time to stroll downstairs.”
It had actually gone very well, in all points. Lord Tatiseigi had found an appreciative audience and (which Tatiseigi might regret once he recalled it) had for the first time conversed with him as if he were a social equal, even an intimate.
To top all, Tatiseigi let himself be drafted as the resident porcelain expert. Which he truly was, along with Lord Geigi.
And when the business got to the Merchants’ Guild, there was no better nor more impressive expert than Tatiseigi to bring before that committee.
He didn’t dare comment to his bodyguard beyond the fact that he was happy. It seemed apt to jinx a run of good luck.
Rumors dictated the rest of the day—rumors that came shooting up to the message-bowl via the downstairs office, rumors that had to be gotten ahead of and answered or, in some cases, accommodated with an appointment. The head of the Transport Guild had heard rumors of new rail lines, and the Merchants’ Guild was even more wrought up, having heard rumors of a Marid factor opening an office on the East Coast and—greater shock—about to open one in Shejidan.
He hadn’t said anything on that score. It was coming from elsewhere, possibly from the Marid, possibly from the Marid via the Guild.
But before he could even ask—“Lord Machigi has named his representative, Bren-ji,” Jago informed him, dropping by the door of his office. “And the Guild has in mind a safe and appropriate lodging for the mission.”
The Guild was handling it. Of course they were.
Which was a great relief, despite the surety that the Guild was shoving politics again. Finding any lodgings within easy distance of the Bujavid, considering the legislature going into session, was a miracle in itself. The hotel would be filling up. Every lodging to let was let far in advance. And the several hotels slightly farther away would be filling.
“The lady,” Jago said, “will be arriving by train, amply escorted and picking up new staff in Shejidan, besides her personal staff from Tanaja.”
A woman. He had not envisioned that.
“Do we know anything about this choice, Jago-ji?”
“Her name is Siodi, of the Jaimedi clan. Her rank is Lady. She is a remote cousin of Lord Machigi, a lady of some sta
nding in Tanaja and in Dausigi. She has represented Lord Machigi frequently in matters with Dausigi and Sungeni clans, mostly involving commerce and shipping. She lost a younger brother to the renegades early on and has been living either in the Isles or in the Residence for the last two years, for safety. In the estimation of Machigi’s guard, the lady was at least marginally in danger, principally as a way to deal psychological damage to Machigi, and did not exit close guard until early this year, when she undertook a mission to the Sungeni.”
“Qualified, then,” he said with some relief. “We shall hope to put the Merchants’ Guild immediately in touch with her; I shall write a letter. Likewise to Transport.” A deep breath. “Echo it to the aiji’s bodyguard. And to Tatisiegi’s.”
“It will leak,” Jago said, “in Tatiseigi’s instance.”
“But it will leak in beneficial places, with the perfume of Lord Tatiseigi’s house about the rumor. Advise the aiji’s staff it is intentional.”
Jago laughed quietly. “Be it so,” she said, and went off to create a small security breach.
He went back to work, writing the policy statement he had promised his staff, and declined Supani’s offer of tea. After meetings going right through lunch, he was awash in tea and had eaten too many teacakes to be at all interested in the sandwich their earnest young cook provided.
Tano came in to report the shuttle had left the station.
“Indeed!” That was good news. And was worth a little caution. “Are there any surprises aboard?”
“None,” Jago said. “Are we expecting anything else?”
“No,” he said with some confidence. “But one should advise staff Narani is coming. They will not wish to be caught with anything in disarray. Not to mention our young cook. He will want to have that kitchen immaculate. Would you care for a sandwich, Tano-ji? That one is superfluous, but one hesitates to offend our young lad.”
Tano gave a gentle laugh and took it up.
“Another report,” Tano said, “says that the dowager has now returned to Malguri from the wedding in Drien-daja’s villa.”
“She cannot return here too soon,” Bren said. “Is there word how matters there have gone with the wedding?”
“None specific and no information forecasting her return.”
“We can expect Lord Geigi at least to come to the capital once he hears the shuttle is on its way down. But I am very concerned about security for him. His bodyguard is no longer as well linked in as they might be. I am concerned about Lord Tatiseigi’s view of it, but I would feel easier if he would make use of my guest room.”
“We have advised his staff,” Tano said, “and we are in discussion on that point.”
Through Guild channels, that was. It was being managed, one trusted, in some way that would not rouse Tatiseigi’s jealousy or damage the uneasy truce between those two.
The sandwich went away with Tano, discreetly, and the paidhi-aiji got down to writing letters, with a sure timetable now for having his full staff. His hard-working crew was due a little rest. And more staff meant a chance for that.
But he had no timetable yet for having Ilisidi at hand to manage Tatiseigi and Geigi.
It was the porcelain, the imagination of benefits, and all the other arguments, that so far stood a chance of keeping Tatiseigi on their side of the political balance.
8
Cajeiri was bored. Bored. Bored. And one so wished one could think of another reason to visit nand’ Bren, or visit anyone outside the apartment walls today. Cajeiri even thought of asking Uncle Tatiseigi for an invitation.
No windows. No harbor. There was no garden in the Bujavid that he could go to—despite his aishid’s discouragement, he did officially ask his father for permission to visit the little one he had heard lay off the Kitchen Court.
No, was the answer. He could not go outside. The garden was too public, access too general. He could not go there.
“Might I go to the library, then, honored Father? Just to the library. One promises, to no other place.”
“No, son of mine. You can send to the library, and the library will send up whatever you want.”
“How shall I know what I want? I cannot see the books!”
“They will send you a selection of titles on any topic. Or a list. You might have a list of all the books in the library, if you ask.”
He sighed, deeply, and looked at the floor, just disgusted. Nobody was letting him have any freedom.
“Things are unsettled,” his father said. “Until business this session is settled, son, things will remain uneasy. There will be no few measures put forward in the legislature provocative of action from unstable persons, not to mention there may be enemies lurking about that the Guild may not have laid hands on.”
“How long,” he ventured to ask, “do you think it will take for it to be safe, honored Father? To the end of the session?”
His father started to answer him and then sighed and said, “One believes you know, son of mine, that there is no easy answer to that. So cease asking like a child. One knows you are wiser than that. It will take as long as it takes.”
He was only eight. But nearly nine. He was not wiser than that, inside, where being locked up without windows made him want to break things.
But, honored Father! he would have cried, even a few months ago.
And of course that would have gotten him nothing but his father’s ill regard.
He had learned a lot in the sole company of grownups, especially in Najida. He had learned that busy people tended to have unusually bad tempers and that one never gained anything by pushing them until that temper surfaced. He had come on his father in the midst of writing letters, probably letters to people who annoyed him, or letters that were going to make people unhappy.
He also learned not to think over and over on things he could not fix. The fact that a baby that lay in a crib and cared nothing about windows was going to have the only view in the apartment made him mad. But he could not fix that. If he ordered his sitting room wall knocked down, all he would have was a view of the Bujavid hallway—which might be interesting, but it would upset Security. There was no question of that.
So he calmed his temper and sat there looking at his father, without a sigh or a protest, until his father grew annoyed with the silence and suspicious. It was exactly what mani did. She had the best tricks of anyone he knew, and those tricks very often worked extremely well on his father.
“How are your lessons, son of mine?” his father asked, then—it was always the topic when his father had run out of topics. “One has had no complaints yet from this tutor. Or, what is more remarkable, about him.”
“He wished to teach me about the East, honored Father. But he has never been there. I told him I have. So he said he would make a list of questions and find out what I know. But if he tells me anything I do not think is right, I think it would be prudent of me to ask mani if that is true.”
His father frowned, maybe just a little annoyed. “Possibly you should ask me if your tutor tells you any fact you think deserves further question.”
“One will do so, then, honored Father.”
“Go,” his father said peevishly.
“Honored Father.” He stood up, bowed, and left, going back to his suite.
He had made himself a project. He had his sketchbook, and he had his little office, in which he sat and worked on his drawings and maps of Najida—he thought them rather good, and his aishid, all of whom were very good observers, could tell him details he had never noticed but that he remembered when they mentioned them.
He had something to do while he was shut in, the way he had learned what he had to do when he was cut off from his associates from the ship and when no one would let him go back to space. He was making his records. He would not forget the ship. He would not forget his associates aboard it. He would not forget the space station, little as he had gotten to see it.
And now he resolved not to forget the way Najida was. Nand??
? Bren was changing it, adding another wing, and that would be very fine. But he wanted to remember it just the way it had been when he had arrived there. And then when he did get to visit again, he would compare things and make new sketches. He saved everything. He had a drawer in his office bureau exclusively for his sketches. And he had another for his maps, and the great map on the wall showed him the whole world. Except for Mospheira. He wanted a map of Mospheira, but he had not gotten one yet. And he wanted a map of the north pole and the south. And maps of the major isles. He wanted all of it. He had seen the world from space. And it was not just lines on paper. It had clouds. It turned. The moon had mountains. Mountains so high that they would have snow if they were on the earth. There was so much, so very much, that most people never even thought about. People had windows and never even looked out them. Of all things in the world he could not understand, he could not understand that.
His tutor came to meet him in his parents’ sitting room, bringing his list of questions about the East. He answered, and his tutor would check him about a detail, and check him on a detail within the detail, and on very boring things about the neighbors. He knew everything so well he quickly had his tutor nodding thoughtfully and saying he must have heard certain things from his great-grandmother.
“Nadi, one spent two years on the starship, and mani had nothing at all to do except to instruct us every day. One has learned genealogies, man’chi, ancestral obligation, protocols, history, geography, geology, animals, plants, herbs, and the traditions of the East. Also one has been instructed in security procedures and tactics by very high-up Guild. One has also recently learned the history, the geology, and the traditions of the West Coast, including the Edi people; and also of the middle lands. One was instructed by Lord Tatiseigi and by my great-grandmother in proper deportment, penmanship, and courteous address. The ship-aijiin instructed me in the history of the ship and in astronomy, besides emergency procedures in space. One has the acquaintance of the Astronomer Emeritus. One has heard about the ocean and navigation and ocean fishes from nand’ Toby of Port Jackson, and one has been on Mospheira, and one has flown twice in the space shuttle. One understands and writes ship-speak and one understands and writes Mosphei’, which is very little different. We have met aliens, and we can speak to them in their language, and nand’ Bren has explained their protocols so far as anybody in the world knows what they think.” He drew breath. He had worked himself into a temper, which he settled, because he had had far worse tutors. “And I have had an infelicitous number of tutors, one after the other, who have insisted on boring lessons about laws and protocols and writing letters. One understands that writing letters is important, nadi, but is there not something new that will be more useful?”