Defiance, page 17
But that was the one troubling fact. Father had had them in his household.
“This is the day,” Cajeiri said, “that you choose, nadiin, whether your man’chi belongs to me—or to my father. If your man’chi is to me, he will blame me, never you, and I will tell him so. Never will I do anything against my father or my mother, but I will do things, things I believe right and necessary, and I will make mistakes. Just—which side of the door do you wish to be on, and where does your man’chi rest, nadiin? Tell me and I will not send you away or complain of you at all. I only ask—which side of the door do you wish to be on when we are discussing the things I do?”
There was stark silence a space. Then they held each other’s hand and one gave a little nod and the other did. “Yours, nandi,” Dimaji said, and: “This side,” Tariko said. “This is your house, nandi. These rooms. We wish to be here.”
That was the first time they had ever said—his house. So they decided, the way his aishid had, the way Eisi and Liedi had, and put up with his stupid ideas, and Boji’s mischief, and all of it. They were different than his older aishid, who might never truly be his, though they served him.
“Eisi-ji,” he said, “Liedi-ji, how did it go? Every detail.”
Eisi looked at Liedi.
Liedi said, “Eisi took the train to Taiben, nandi. I went to Cobo, and caught the next train up to the coast.”
“I had the easier trip,” Eisi said, “by far. We reached the train station. And I used the phone to call the major d’ of Tirnamardi. And when I arrived in Taiben, in the woods, expecting to wait, Lord Tatiseigi’s car was waiting. And when I got to Tirnamardi I talked to Lord Tatiseigi himself, and gave him your letter and told him everything. He was very concerned about the dowager, honor to her name. And he immediately waked up all his staff, and began packing and choosing a coat. Liedi was arriving at Cobo about then.”
“With just barely enough time to catch the north spur train,” Liedi said, “because the Cobo train had to wait for the transcontinental. I was afraid I would miss it, but when we got there, I ran, nandi, and I used the Bujavid token at the ticket office to hold the train, I regret, nandi, but I would have missed the train and there is not another until the morning.”
“Well done!” Cajeiri said, though he was sure that using the token to hold a train might draw attention in Accounts. So might the train tickets, much more than the parcels, and he might hear from Father a little sooner than he feared; but if Liedi had done all the rest it was too late for that—and he wanted the rest of the story. “So you came to Cobo.”
“After mid of the night, indeed, nandi. Anyway, I took the train to the north, I got off at Dur Astandi, and tried to call Dur, but their phone was out—it appears a storm had come through earlier and knocked down lines—so I walked to the great house and their gate was open, so that part was easy. I just walked up the hill to the door and knocked and knocked, until the night staff asked my business. Then I showed the token to the night watch, told him I came from you, and I had to speak to the young lord. The night staff sent someone to wake the young lord, and he came down in his nightshirt, in a great hurry. I told him everything you said and gave him the letter. He read it quickly, and he asked no questions at all: he waked staff and sent people running out to the field to wake the mechanic and make his plane ready. He said—shall I shorten this, nandi?”
“No, no, I want to hear it. All of it. Was he upset?”
“Not at all, nandi. He was—he was as good as you could ask. He called a servant to serve me tea, nandi! And dressed right in the hall, and called for his flight jacket and his helmet, and ordered someone to find the fault in the phone lines all in one string of orders. And then in all that commotion, he asked me how I was getting back to the Bujavid, because I had told him, you know, there were two of us, and that Eisi had gone to Tirnamardi, and that Lord Tatiseigi would be wanting to go before—” Liedi stopped, with a shift of the eyes toward Father’s apartment, as if Father could hear right through the walls. “Wanting to go as soon as he could. So he, the young lord, Lord Reijiri, he set his aishid to making phone calls to arrange things along the way, as soon as the lines were back up. And he said to me, ‘You had as well be gone from here or spend all day answering my father’s questions. Staff can drive you to the train station. But I can get you to Tirnamardi, if you want to take the passenger seat, as fast as I get there myself, and you can meet your partner.’ And I thought—I thought it would be better to get back as fast as I could, so I agreed, and I rode in the plane, nandi. In the open air, with no windows!”
Cajeiri knew that plane, knew it very well—from the ground—and oh, he would have accepted such a ride in a moment. He wanted to hear every detail of it. But he said, to get to Uncle, and the essentials—“So you flew to Tirnamardi with him.”
“I did, nandi. And at Tirnamardi they had lights set all over the lawn in front, which is a long hill, but a flat space near the gates. And we landed there. We were hardly on the ground and stopped when Lord Tatiseigi came down in his motorcar, with his aishid. And baggage, but Lord Reijiri said they could not take it, it would have to go by train, and we, Eisi and I, we would take it to Taiben and have the conductor tag it for Najida, so it will get there—”
“We took it in the motorcar,” Eisi said. “But Lord Tatiseigi’s aishid came with us and took care of it, as they were heading for Najida to join Lord Tatiseigi.”
“And I gave Lord Tatiseigi the goggles,” Liedi said. “Nobody had brought a ladder, and they were going to go get one, but Lord Dur said to move the motorcar up to the wing, and Lord Tatiseigi got up onto the car and up he went with Lord Dur’s help onto the wing, and climbed into the seat I had had. Like a young man, nandi. You would have been amazed!”
The image of it was amazing, no question.
“And Lord Dur got in and they took off, and they just barely cleared the hedge. Lord Dur said they were going to refuel at Cobo.” Liedi drew a deep breath. “They should be there by now.”
“And we rode in the motorcar with the luggage right from there,” Eisi said, “because we could just make the night train if we hurried; and staff said they would call the railroad in Shejidan to have them hold at Taiben Station, because we were coming. But we made it, anyway, without them even waiting.”
It was not exactly an expedition innocent of traces left along the way. Now the railroad office and the Bujavid offices knew that his servants had been to Tirnamardi and back. And Cobo would know Lord Tatiseigi’s luggage had to go to Najida, along with Uncle’s aishid.
Father was going to know, if enough questions met each other, and it was very likely something would get his attention.
But Uncle was well on his way by now, and even if Father was probably going to be upset, it had all worked, and he had done what he needed to do for mani. And for Uncle. If she was terribly, terribly ill—if she was that ill, she would want to see Lord Tatiseigi above all her associates, maybe even above him. Lord Tatiseigi had been worried and very, very put out when she had taken off on the trip to Hasjuran with Lord Machigi, whom nobody trusted, and then—
Then everything had blown up down in the Marid, and all sorts of things started shifting and changing, like objects on a shelf that just started to fail, a cascade of things that never had happened suddenly sliding and changing other things . . .
Lord Tatiseigi, just like Father, just like him, had been supposed to sit up here in the north and hear the reports of Great-grandmother being sick and do nothing. But Uncle would encourage her. Uncle could talk to her. Mani was entirely unreasonable when she was not feeling well, and particularly when things were not going well. Cenedi could argue with her up to a point, but then he would do whatever mani wanted, while nand’ Bren had no way to argue with mani or Cenedi if it came to that.
But Lord Tatiseigi could. Lord Tatiseigi could even tell mani she was wrong, when nobody else could.
So he had put it all together and he had done everything he could reach to do. He ought to feel better about that.
But it had been a lot noisier than he would have wished, and involved far more people, and left way too many traces. It had not been what mani would call a neat operation.
Even in his own premises he had now involved Dimaji and Tariko, and his younger aishid. And his two senior servants most of all.
The whole household stood assembled; and he was not happy, but he found himself at least not that unhappy with what he had done. It was a semicircle of grim faces, and several worried ones. Only his older aishid was missing from their midst. One could imagine them—frowning. Darkly.
“Nadiin,” he said to them then, “my father may be extremely unhappy with me when he finds out all I have done; and what part you do not know, you do not need to know.” The faces were so uniformly grim a little lightness seemed in order. “So do not be afraid of consequences. I will not ask you go with me if he sends me to live in Hasjuran.”
“Nandi,” Eisi said quietly, appalled.
“One doubts it would be Hasjuran,” he said. “But we should not discuss what I have done anywhere in the house. The more that hear of it, the worse it will be if it goes wrong—as it could. My father and I will discuss what I have done, when he finds out, which I am fairly sure will be this morning, but I had rather it be as late as possible. I shall not blame any of you if you wish to leave my service. I shall not blame you. Truthfully, I had thought I would do better this year. But at times it seems reasonable to do things of which my father may not approve—and you who are very new should know that.” He tried to think of what else to say and nothing else occurred to him. “You may go now. All of you.”
“Nandi,” Tariko said, and Dimaji echoed her. Tariko gave a prolonged—a very prolonged bow; so did Dimaji; and straightened up and gave a solemn little bow to Eisi and Liedi, respecting the order of the household.
Were they satisfied? Were they vowing to apply to Services as soon as the matter broke, and find another household?
Either was possible.
Of Eisi and Liedi he had no doubt. Nor any of his younger aishid—at all, or ever. They would not leave him. And for them—honestly—he was scared.
But not repentant.
He only dreaded what his elder aishid would say when they found out.
“Go rest,” he said to Eisi and Liedi. “Go to bed. My aishid and I will deal with everything as it happens. Take the rest of the day, and sleep. With my thanks, nadiin-ji.”
There were apt to be messages soon, from Father. They could manage. He could manage. His aishid had had nothing to do with it. He had been careful on that score, too. It was his plan, and he would say that when Father asked. He could say it with absolute truthfulness.
His older aishid was not here, and his younger one could hardly be held accountable for orders he gave to his two senior servants, in private. He had protected everybody, and mani herself could not have managed better in that part. He had learned her ways, knew how to keep his face perfectly calm; and he knew through what channels orders and information flowed, what moved where, when the trains ran, carrying what—all those dreary, dull lessons about all the commerce and transportation of the aishidi’tat.
She might be proud of him.
His father probably—well, possibly Father would explain to him in specific why he was wrong, but he was relatively sure his staff were in the clear, even Eisi and Liedi.
And if Father did not find out about it until enough time had elapsed for Uncle to get to Najida—
Then he had to gather up his courage, tell Father what he had done and let Father decide what to do about it, because it was needful that Father know Uncle had left Tirnamardi, and that Uncle, mani, and nand’ Bren were down in Najida definitely needing protection from the Shadow Guild.
There was that considerable Guild force sitting there, with the Red Train. They had the equipment. They were prepared, if someone gave the order. And if mani could not give it, Father certainly could.
As for the young lord of Dur being at fault—at no time had Liedi informed him that Lord Tatiseigi had been told not to come to Najida—since he had not given Liedi that information. He had been very careful.
Technically—well, Dur, who was an ally he valued personally, and would rely on in any crisis—Dur would certainly be justified in being upset with him, and that was deeply upsetting.
But he had made his choice and now he had only to give Uncle enough time to get to Najida. At least time enough for Lord Dur’s yellow plane to take on fuel at Cobo and get back into the air.
Then maybe—
A terrible, terrible thought dawned on him—maybe someone should urgently tell Father to tell the Guild at Najida that that bright yellow plane was going to need to land, and that they should not shoot at it.
How long did it take to refuel?
What if they delayed there—for breakfast—or just to rest, for Uncle’s sake? How long did it take to fly between Cobo and Najida?
• • •
A motorized Guild escort fell in with the bus at the intersection of the train station road and the market road—two of the fast-moving light vehicles, offloaded from the train. Bren turned in his seat as one blazed by in a spray of mud, taking the lead, and the other fell out of sight, likely still with them.
Those were on Cenedi’s orders, one was sure; part of the initial force Ilisidi had brought with them to Hasjuran.
And the deployment had erected rows of tents beside the market road, pale canvas ghosts in the foggy morning light. That was comforting to see—Guild poised to move, if movement became the order—but stationed there in the meantime for the protection of Najida and Najida village. It was both ominous, that martial intrusion into a peaceful meadow, and immensely reassuring, because of what else might be moving up and down that road. One was hopeful their orders would still be to protect Najida, and that they were not moving.
The threat they themselves might run into?
There was that to think about.
The dowager only glanced out the window at the encampment. She might have been passing some ceremonial review. It was that kind of expression.
Cenedi, however, had gotten up and moved down the aisle, perhaps to have a view of the tents from the rear windows, perhaps in the process of delivering orders to the Guild officer in charge of the train and the encampment, who, one believed, did have one or more of Lord Geigi’s special communications units.
Possibly his. If that were the case, he could think of no better use for it at this time, if it meant safety for Najida. Still . . . it would have been nice to have been asked. It would have been nicer to have one of the two they had had at Koperna.
The vehicle in front of them ran along the grassy margin. The bus and presumably the truck that would be following them were on the one-lane market road, a track worn in sandstone intermittent with sand, that ran from the station as far as Ashidama before the sandstone gave out and the road became—whatever lack of maintenance let it become. Every neighbor to a road was supposed to maintain his own stretch of roadway; but Ashidama only maintained the market roads in certain seasons—and since Lord Geigi had gone away to space and Kajidama maintenance devolved entirely on Najida, which did have heavy equipment, it was fine near the rail station—but what lay ahead and whether it would hold up all the way to Kajiminda’s share of the road, which the Edi did not use, was a question.
Jago cast a look out the window as far back as she conveniently could and faced forward again.
“Is the second vehicle still behind us?” Bren asked.
“Yes,” Jago said.
Tano stood up and came as far as Banichi’s seat, foremost. Tano sat down. Those two talked, silhouetted against the grey dawn. One recalled without overmuch happiness that mines, explosives, demolitions, and ambushes were Tano’s particular field of expertise, and one had to wonder what the discussion was.
Himself—he decided that sleep was available for the next small stretch of road and murky morning, and he settled down against Jago’s shoulder, shutting his eyes and sinking into the steady noise of the bus. The dowager had had days to sleep. The dowager was intent now on moving with dispatch, to what precise purpose he was not sure, but thus far an encampment of Guild and a reassurance that the dowager had a plan and a purpose was enough, compared to last night, to let him let go of higher thought and concentrate instead on what he might do—
He slept. Let go entirely.
• • •
It was time. By the clock, by his maps, by everything Cajeiri had been able to figure from what Liedi knew and remembered from his late-night flight, it was time enough for the plane to have reached Cobo airport and to refuel to fly to Najida—it was not a long operation.
Now it was time to send a message to Father.
Honored Father, I have received reliable information—
That was a proper formal beginning. A lot of official dispatches started that way.
Reliable information. That was true.
I have received very reliable information that Uncle Tatiseigi has joined the young lord of Dur—
No, that was not at all good. That made it sound as if Dur had done everything, and that would have Father mad at Dur, who by no means deserved it.
Lord Tatiseigi has taken a trip south with Lord Reijiri . . .
No. That sounded like a country outing of two fools.
Great-uncle has become concerned about Great-grandmother and he is flying out of Cobo—
Better. A little better.
Great-uncle has become very concerned because of news about Great-grandmother—
Rumors did get out. And that was how Great-uncle would react. Absolutely.
He is in the air right now, flying south with young Dur—
Well, it dodged explaining how Dur had gotten involved, but it did not blame Dur, either.
And then to the really serious problem, the problem that had his stomach upset the last three hours:
And since the Guild has taken a position at the train station, which is near the road, which is the only flat place to land, one is very concerned that the Guild might mistake them for Shadow Guild.
