Apologize? He could only be thankful for his aishid’s foresight. Profoundly thankful.
“We did not expect nand’ Jase and his guards to arrive with the equipment,” Algini added, “but we accept the assistance. We do not expect a move against us yet. We think our opposition has made one necessary move, in stopping Lord Komaji. They are surely looking us over and finding out that Tirnamardi is no longer an easy mark. They are surely finding out that the Taibeni and the Atageini have made an alliance beyond a signature on a piece of paper. They are surely aware that the situation immediately surrounding the aiji has changed. They might naturally expect, given the foreign visitors, that there will be precautions taken and personnel shifted about, and of course we gave out that we are all at Malguri. How soon they penetrate that story will tell us something about their sources and their capabilities. We are unashamedly using the presence of our young guests to make those changes. And we hope our adversaries will believe that everything we are doing is just a temporary change and that things will go back to their former vulnerability, once the shuttle returns these children to space.”
After the official birthday celebration. Back in the Bujavid . . . with all the danger it might entail, including exposure to other Guild, who would have been put in place by Assignments.
“At that time,” Algini said, “there will be the option to send Cajeiri to the station with them. Temporarily. Possibly the aiji-dowager as well. At that point—we will go after Haikuti, and we will go after Shishoji. There will be no Filing. We will otherwise observe the law. If you wish to go up to the station with the aiji-dowager and the young gentleman, Bren-ji, it will be safer, and we will be free to do what we must do.”
He took in a breath, instantly sure. “No. No, I will not leave you, nadiin-ji. Where I have influence, where I have any authority, I shall use it in whatever manner you need, and if I am present in any situation, you are protecting me. What you do then—is legal.”
Banichi said, quietly, warmly, “We are not surprised, Bren-ji. We only ask you keep your head down. Literally.”
God. So it was coming.
One hoped Tabini was right to trust Damiri. The coming operation, their lives, the security of the whole atevi world relied on that one emotional judgment.
But couldn’t he say, lacking the hardwiring to feel atevi emotions, and going solely on his human senses, that he trusted the four people who were telling him this?
When push came to shove, he bet everything on them. And had no doubts.
They’d just had, perhaps, a trial of Tatiseigi’s new security arrangement, this morning.
From inside, as it looked to be.
They’d chosen to be separate from the Bujavid—but to have as short a distance as possible to the spaceport; now he knew why that was; and as short a distance as possible between them and the capital—and Guild Headquarters. He’d been anticipating trouble from Komaji.
Scratch that, as of this morning.
“The Kadagidi,” he said. Murini’s clan. Tatiseigi’s next-door neighbors. “This bodyguard of Lord Aseida’s. Haikuti. Is he the force we’re imminently worried about?”
“Yes,” Banichi said, from across the room. “He is a significant problem.”
Algini said, just a flick of the eyes toward Banichi, “Very significant. —Lord Tatiseigi, Bren-ji, has been a somewhat special case in the matter of out-clan assignments. He supports the rule. Officially. But he is very inclined to prefer Atageini Guild be assigned here to him—and he has occasionally, on personal privilege, put pressure on the Office of Assignments. Assignments never complained, you may be sure. Shishoji inserted a few Atageini with kinship to the Kadagidi—and beyond that, assigned some Atageini personnel who, frankly speaking, were not the caliber that a man in Tatiseigi’s position should have gotten. Conversely, where there has been extraordinary promise in an Atageini candidate who might have come in and identified these people, that person has been shifted to other service, and made unavailable to Tatiseigi’s house.”
And in just such a way, one at a time . . . or in this case in twos and fours . . . the balance of power throughout the aishidi’tat had been shifted—for forty-two years. Forty-two years of lethal man’chi being slipped into key positions. It wouldn’t even take special training or instructions, nothing that could be traced directly to some individual. A time bomb with a purely instinct-driven trigger, right out of the machimi plays. Instincts that would, at some key instant, jump the wrong way. Silent. Nearly untraceable. Shadow Guild, indeed.
Algini continued: “Tatiseigi’s clan has bled talent into the system and consistently gotten back less. Rusani and his team, the senior bodyguards—are not much younger than Tatiseigi. They are too old to keep up with training in the way of younger men; and ironically, when we approached them, with Lord Tatiseigi’s permission, they were convinced the general quality of Guild training has sadly declined over the years. We cannot at this point tell them the truth of the situation, but we told them the aiji-dowager herself would send them help. Tabini himself told Lord Tatiseigi that he must accept, for the safety of the aiji-dowager and the heir. That is the situation. We have a few remaining of the old staff. And now we have to ask if we have somehow missed one. If we have, that individual may be desperate to try to get word to his control. And we are equally determined he should not get that word out, either who is here, or how we are configured. Alternatively, we may have a source of information we can lay hands on.”
“If he uses communications equipment, we will be on him in an instant,” Tano said. “Otherwise, he will have to make a run for it. And getting across the grounds and through the hedges is no small difficulty. He is trapped. Whoever he is.”
“Kadagidi would be the logical direction,” Bren murmured.
“We are watching all directions,” Jago said, “by every means.”
They would find this—hopefully last—infiltrator, he had every confidence. With luck, they’d take him alive and have a chance to extract information. And then, or at least very soon thereafter, they were going to try to fix what was broken.
Forty-two years of problems in the Guild.
That dated from before his predecessor, Wilson, had been paidhi-aiji. It dated from the time of Tabini’s grandfather.
From before there was anyone living on the space station. From before there had been significant human technology in atevi hands, and from before there was any real flow of communication between Mospheira and the mainland. An old movement, an old resistance to human influence . . . had shifted course radically—with this wild notion of moving into the space station.
Not technophobes, however. The old man sitting in that office had declined computers, which would have opened up his records, a locator bracelet, which would have told other Guild where he was.
But he was seeking control of the highest powered technology available.
While Murini had put himself forward as opposing human influence, opposing the changes in atevi society, opposing the factories and the space program, to get Conservative Party support—until his assassination and intimidation tactics had crossed a line and people realized this was not the government they wanted.
Not a repudiation of the space program and human influence. A takeover . . . using that technology.
And the one way, the one way they could have inserted their people into the station was to get Geigi off it. Off it and, preferably, out of the picture completely.
No wonder the Shadow Guild had been setting up a trap for Lord Geigi, hoping he’d find reason to visit his estate at Kajiminda. They’d hijacked Machigi’s original plot to get his hands on Geigi’s estate. They’d taken over the operation and come scarily close to succeeding in delivering a major blow to Tabini’s year-old second administration.
Until they’d crossed the aiji-dowager.
Geigi had come down from the heavens, however—
A
nd then of all things the Shadow Guild had taken to the field and decided to throw mortars at Najida.
“A question,” he said. “Nadiin-ji. Why did the Shadow Guild take it to the field? Why did they blow the cover off?”
“That,” Algini said, “is an interesting question. And a sad situation. The ones most exposed fled south and to the coast when Murini fell. They began recruitment of Marid Guild, whose man’chi was to the region, with a lie: they told these people that the out-clan rule was going to be imposed by northern Guild, who would isolate them and impose northern lords over the Marid. The lie was too potent. The Marid recruits slipped control, they took to the field, and they were not coordinated. The action now has evolved to words and reasoned argument, where possible—and the skirmishes that do take place now are with those we have no reluctance to take down. Cenedi has had experience in the East. He asked Machigi for names from the Taisigin Marid, called respected persons out of retirement, and set them in positions in the Marid where their influence can be useful. The opposition is feeling more threatened by these influential seniors than by weapons, and local Guild is becoming aware that Murini’s people are, principally, outsiders to the Marid. The remnant of our enemy is resorting once again to Murini’s tactics of intimidation and threats, and they continue to spread the rumors, primarily in the more rural areas, that the out-clan rule is coming and the aiji means to take over the Marid—which is still a rallying cry for the misled. It is a district by district struggle, in a region where the Messengers’ Guild does not operate, where there is no television, and radio is often short range and delivering disinformation. We have taken to distributing radios, and broadcasting our own message.”
Communication. A world perspective. Messengers’ Guild. Scholars’ Guild. Get those throughout the Marid and misinformation and truth could at least fight on a level field.
“Ironically, in the past, Assignments has not had the ability to deal with the Marid as well as it has in the north, but that situation is changing. The local Guild has taken a beating they are being told was the fault of their leaders. Machigi—is regarded with great suspicion in the northern Marid.”
One very much hoped that the next word would not be that Machigi himself was one of their problems.
“Whatever Machigi has been,” Banichi said, “he probably still is—but right now his best chance of survival is as a lord in Tabini-aiji’s man’chi, and by assuring everybody goes over to the out-clan rule. Assignments, we are quite sure, is already lining up candidates to be installed the moment the aiji and Machigi agree on that move.”
“If Shishoji were removed,” Bren said, “would that settle it?”
A look flew between Banichi and Algini, Jago and Banichi. Tano just looked worried.
“It would not,” Bren concluded.
“We have a choice of targets,” Algini said, “but there are several what you call loose ends we must deal with before we can move—before we should, prudently, move—on Shishoji himself. And we are not sure—” Again the glance toward Banichi. “—who actually has the man’chi within that structure. We are of several opinions.”
“But it is between Haikuti, and Shishoji?”
A quick dip of the chin. “Haikuti has not the evident seniority or the authority Shishoji has,” Algini said. “He is a tactician. He was running Murini from his position as his cousin’s bodyguard. Cenedi believes his letting Murini do as much bloodletting as he wished was cold-blooded policy—and that once the enemies had been eliminated, Murini would die, and Aseida would step in with clean hands and a new policy the aishidi’tat would be glad to accept.”
“Haikuti let Murini go as far as he did,” Banichi said, “because he was likely selecting Murini’s targets. He is a tactician who does not mind bloodshed, so long as it is not his own. Shishoji has no field experience. He is, perhaps, the philosopher of the Shadow Guild, but he is a numbers man that arranges teams. He analyzes people. He is the one we need to get. He is the architect. Haikuti— No. He is what someone will use. He is not the intellectual master of this organization.”
There was a small silence. “I agree with you,” Algini said.
Tano said, “Nandi. Nadiin-ji. The aiji-dowager has just ordered Cenedi to a conference with the young gentleman. She has asked Jase-aiji to remain with the guests. This will be a briefing, similar to the one we have just held.”
While they had an intrusion alarm still unaccounted for—the highest level of Guild present had decided briefing him, and now the heir, had priority. Presumably what Cajeiri learned would include names. And warnings.
So that, whatever happened, in any confusion that might break here, the young gentleman would have some idea who his allies were—and who his enemies were.
One, Haikuti, was right over the hill.
Another—depending on what the dowager decided—might be Damiri.
God. He hoped—hoped the boy didn’t have to hear that.
• • •
Cajeiri was not happy with the situation, with Boji loose outside, and hostile strangers somewhere about—strangers desperate enough to try the borders of Great-uncle’s estate.
Perhaps they had no idea Great-uncle had come home. But there had been a lot of noise and dust at the train station, and along the road. It was hard not to be noticed, if there had been anybody paying attention.
If they were prowling around because they knew who Great-uncle’s guests were, they were stupid, and bad things could happen, and if people started shooting he was going to be really mad.
But he could not be scowling and making his guests worried. They had had the alarm. They had been escorted upstairs. Then they had Jase-aiji with them—Jase-aiji was sitting in a chair, commiserating with them about Boji escaping, being pleasant otherwise, and casual. But Kaplan and Polano had come in not too long after, and sat over across the room, wearing sidearms, which of course his own bodyguard did, too—but it was just not that usual with the ship-folk. He knew it. His aishid didn’t. But his guests had certainly given their presence an uneasy look.
Now Antaro and Jegari had come in from the hall—Lucasi and Veijico were already with them, over near the window, keeping a watch there; and straightway Antaro went over to Jase and Jegari came to him.
“Your great-grandmother’s bodyguard’s word, nandi. She wishes you to go to the sitting room.”
Him. Only him. In Ragi it was perfectly clear.
“Why?” he asked. “Is my father all right?”
“As far as we know,” Jegari said, “everyone is safe.” He added, “One of the house staff says she saw Boji, nandi, right when I was outside. I could not see him, but she says he was up on the haystacks. And there is water in the mecheiti troughs. There is every good chance he will stay where he is. We cannot go out there during the security alert. But we may be able to lure him down if he gets hungry.”
“If a mecheita does not step on him,” Cajeiri said, rising to his feet. “Nadiin-ji,” he began, then decided on ship-speak. “Mani wants me,” he said to his guests. “I have to go. Back real soon.”
“Nandi,” Gene said and got up and gave a proper little bow, much more than he really was obliged to do, but the others did, too, and Jase nodded.
Jegari was with him. Antaro joined him. Lucasi and Veijico looked at him and he thought if there was anything mani had to tell him it could well be about Grandfather, and that was Guild business. It would be a good idea for his entire aishid to go. He gave a nod to them, they fell in and they were not the only ones out in the hall. Nand’ Bren and his aishid were headed down the stairs, and his aishid, Antaro and Jegari foremost, headed downstairs right after them.
Not a question of going down to mani’s suite, down the hall, then, but downstairs, onto the main floor. He quickened his pace, and arrived at the door of the sitting room not far behind nand’ Bren and his bodyguard. It was Banichi and Jago who took up guard
outside, and Tano and Algini who went inside with nand’ Bren, which was unusual in itself.
It made him think fast about his own aishid: Jegari and Antaro were seniormost in his household, and they knew the Padi Valley up and down; but Veijico and Lucasi were senior in Guild rank, and he reversed the usual order of his bodyguard, too, said, “Taro-ji, Gari-ji, take the door,” straightened his coat, and went in with Lucasi and Veijico.
Mani was there, no question. So was Great-uncle. And nand’ Bren. And he was the last piece, he decided. He paid a quiet to bow to mani and to Uncle, and a lesser one to nand’ Bren, and picked the chair beside him.
There was tea. So it was not an outright emergency and nobody else was dead. He took a cup that the servant offered him, and they all sat and sipped tea awhile, until he was not breathing hard, and his heart had settled. And he was being included with the adults. That was something. Things were serious, but they called him to tell him what was going on. He was a few days short of felicitous nine, and he was being taken seriously, more than ever in his life.
So he put on his best manners, and drank at the rate everybody else did, and when mani set her cup down, he set his down, finished or not; and everybody else did.
Then Great-uncle said something very unusual. He said, “Only bodyguards may remain. Clear the room, nadiin-ji.”
The servants left, all of them.
“Paidhi,” Great-grandmother said, “for convenience of language and accuracy, we leave Jase-aiji to wait for your briefing. You may relay to him the nature and content of what we say—be somewhat sparing of detail internal to the Guild. You have been briefed already by your aishid.”
Nand’ Bren said, “Yes, aiji-ma.”
“Well,” Great-grandmother said, “Great-grandson.”
“Mani.” If he were littler he would have stood up at that tone. He was nearly nine, and twitched, but he stayed seated, and only gave a polite nod.
“You know that your grandfather was one reason for the security surrounding your birthday celebration. You know that since this morning he is no longer at issue.”