Defiance, page 22
“Fuel will be here,” Bren said, “by train from Cobo, perhaps tomorrow—the dowager’s order.”
“Then I must thank her,” Reijiri said, and exchanged the empty glass for the offered teacup. “Is she receiving today, at all?”
“Perhaps at dinner. There will be dinner, shortly. You will certainly stay the night . . . well, fuel and all. There will be a room. For you, too, of course, Lord Tatiseigi.”
“I have brought nothing,” Tatiseigi said. “Nor has Dur. They would not let me bring a single case aboard—the fuel. The fuel weight, one understands. But here we sit, Dur and I, without so much as a change of linen.”
“Staff will manage,” Bren said. “Our wardrobes will be here soon, I think—they are coming from Najida—a little delayed: but they will make it. My clothes are entirely too small, but between our aishidi and house staff, we may put something together while staff restores your own. You both should have a choice by morning.”
“Most appreciated,” Reijiri said. “Most gratefully appreciated.”
“The bath, as well. Any need. Lord Geigi’s staff is very, very good—he loves his comforts. Anything you need in a well-appointed house, staff is likely to find.”
“Nand’ Bren,” Tatiseigi said—had he ever named him so familiarly? One thought not. “Excellently done. Excellently.” The old lord made an attempt to rise. A failure. Bren moved, fearing a fall, but Tano was there, taller, and stronger, with help less socially charged. Bren simply stood there, sympathetic. Reijiri likewise had stood up. Tatiseigi, his hand in Tano’s younger, stronger one, stayed standing in place, with the Edi staffer to the other side, ready to assist.
“The legs,” Tatiseigi said ruefully. “A mecheita is an easier seat, Lord Dur, I do maintain it. You should deepen the padding, I say, a good deal thicker cushion would do very nicely. But then, if we likely could not board so much as sandwiches, could we deal with pillows?”
“Lord,” Reijiri said, also on his feet, “if I take you up again, I promise better cushions.”
“Then we might have run out of fuel before we reached the meadow, might we not? I renounce the cushions, young lord, I do earnestly renounce them. Tano. It is Tano, is it not? The bath would be welcome. Let us go, if you please. I had to leave my aishid. They were not pleased. They will be on their way to Najida. But slower than we. Much slower.”
Bren stood and watched the departure. Reijiri offered Tatiseigi his arm for support, and Algini followed, in case of need. Two lords of the aishidi’tat had come without their bodyguards, and if Tatiseigi’s was on their way, very likely another aishid was coming down from Dur, all considerably distressed. That would be eight more Guild in their company fairly soon, granted they got past the encampment at Najida, not at all a bad thing, in his opinion.
Banichi and Jago remained, over against the wall. He and his were now sole possessors of the sitting room, with tea and brandy set out. “We are informal here,” Bren said to Banichi and Jago. “As at home. This is where we will stay a few days. At very least.”
“One hardly needs mention,” Banichi said, “the risk here. Ourselves. Only four. And the dowager’s eight. With limited communication. Najida is under an order of silence. We are. We have Lord Geigi’s installations, which the Edi staff may know far more about than we have yet found. We will apparently have two units inbound. But this place has far too many windows, far too much cover approaching it, and unless the trees are wired—which is a distinct possibility—we will be reliant on Lord Geigi and the Edi command of the systems for security on the approaches. Most of all, we do not know what orders may come.”
“Tabini-aiji will not be pleased with this entire situation,” Bren said. “We could not stop her. I could not stop her, if Cenedi would not. I do not, at present, see a way to be useful, but we cannot leave until she will.”
“We could,” Banichi said, “once the plane is refueled, send you—”
“No.”
“Alternatively, one of us could go as far as Shejidan and report the situation in detail. Dur would be willing to fly there.”
“So could the Guild commander send a such a message,” Jago said, arriving with two cups of tea, one for Banichi. “On his secure com. At gunpoint. After a reasonable explanation fails.”
“Midagi would not bypass Cenedi’s orders on our word,” Banichi said to Bren. “Not while the dowager is in the field. You would have to shoot him. But a flight to Shejidan remains a serious option—and a shorter distance, by air. You could go, Bren-ji. Or one of us could. If only as far as Cobo. You would be out of her field of operations.”
The dowager would never forgive him. Pushing the communicator issue with the encampment risked an obdurate commander arresting one of his aishid—and ultimately it challenged the dowager. Flying to Shejidan and questioning the dowager’s actions in Tabini’s office was an option, but it risked his relationship with Ilisidi while doing nothing to solve the problem in Ashidama, since the dowager would still be in the field—outranked only by Tabini, who would still be hamstrung by lack of current information, because at the moment he had none. Ultimately, Ilisidi was, however reckless her methods, not moving precipitately. The dust had not settled yet from their arrival . . . let alone Dur’s, they were in an excellent position to gather intelligence, and the dowager had ordered nothing reckless. Yet. That one knew of.
One could not but think of the cliffs to the east of the market road, the escarpment that ended the great southern plateau and furnished such a grand viewing platform over the market road and the bag end of Ashidama Bay. Kajiminda, as the border between Ashidama and the aishidi’tat, was a prime location for spies. And snipers. One could not but wonder whether the Guild commander, on Ilisidi’s orders, had made the spies and snipers up there theirs instead of Machigi’s rangers, or one of the entities of Ashidama—now including the Shadow Guild. And if those spies had been replaced, who might take exception and how fast?
There were so many possibilities.
If Ilisidi’s actions did change from surveillance to open aggression, if at some point the necessity of getting word to Tabini did take absolute precedence . . . having Reijiri here with his plane offered options he otherwise might not have. But leaving that option open meant keeping yet one more northern lord in the danger zone.
Make a second phone call to Geigi? By what they had discovered here, Betan obviously had some means of doing so, and might even allow him to use it. But what could he could say other than the bus, obviously, is here. The sky had cleared, the storm moved on. The red bus and the yellow plane were likely identifiable from orbit—Lord Geigi had no few eyes in low orbit, providing weather reports. And those other, more terrestrial conveniences Algini had noted in the house, were undoubtedly providing constant reports. No matter how busy Geigi was up there, knowing there was trouble in the area, Geigi would, at the very least, have a subordinate sitting at a dedicated console watching, non-stop, what might be happening on this coast.
The dowager had pushed forward as hard and as long as she was able. One fact was undeniable: she had not retired out of boredom this evening. Ordinarily she would be in the middle of everything. She would be down here right now, planning. But even after Tatiseigi’s arrival, and obviously with a tale waiting to be told, a tale which ordinarily would have her full interest and lively curiosity—she had gone, not even waiting for Dur’s arrival.
Unusual, but understandable. He was tired. They all were tired. But none of them carried the weight of the world as she did, along with the weight of sheer age. Movement upon movement had gotten them here, brought them as close to the enemy as a day’s walk through the woods . . . and without any clear plan, if Tatiseigi’s assessment was accurate. Thus far the plan was simply to be close to the enemy—whose stage of preparedness and whose local contacts—entirely possible through years and decades of trade relations—they did not know.
It was lunacy to be this close, the paidhi-aiji could think. But then—he was not Guild. Nor was he the aiji-dowager, who had been playing this chess game for three generations.
Banichi might be able to tell him how, in atevi terms, it made sense. He could ask questions. He had asked them. But then—asking questions on proposed operations injected his thinking into theirs, and interfering with a Guild assessment of possibilities was not the best thing to do at the moment.
It all just made him damned nervous.
He got up and refilled his own teacup. Doing small things for himself all but required stealth, with staff about, trying to do their duty.
But the Edi lad had left the room—reasonably so, though uncommon in atevi households.
As he debated on a third teaspoon of sugar, there came a disturbance in the hall—not a quiet conversation, but hushed, and urgent . . . and approaching them.
Edi. His ears made out that much before he looked toward the door.
Betan. With company. An older woman arrived in the sitting room—and among Edi, that could mean authority that they had not seen. Authority higher than Betan’s and apart from Kajiminda estate.
“This is Seiatchet,” Betan said first-off.
“Seiatchet-mala,” Bren echoed with a little bow, used his limited command of Edi courtesies, and the woman gave a short, stiff nod, Edi-style.
“Daughter of the Grandmother,” Betan said, and if Betan was doing the talking in this lady’s presence, this lady either could not or did not choose to speak Ragi. Meanwhile Seiatchet’s frown betokened nothing pleasant.
“Welcome,” Bren said in the Edi language. “We shall sit happily.” Verbs in the Edi language were complex and problematic—jussive was to be avoided, above all, with this lady. And his vocabulary was sadly inadequate for problems.
Seiatchet moved her head. Negative. Refusal. Not happy at all.
“What can I do?” Bren asked.
“Gan,” Seiatchet said sharply. Just that. Gan. The name of the other Tribal People, up near Dur . . . enemies of the Edi on Mospheira, both transported to the mainland during the War of the Landing, but sited at opposite ends of the west coast because of their history. One-handed, angry, she mimed the plane.
Two and two made a clear problem in this place, outside Najida’s forgiving atmosphere. “Reijiri of Dur came. He is Ragi. An ally.”
Betan launched into a sentence in which Geigi figured, Dur, and the Grandmother, and the token the Grandmother had given. Seiatchet’s harshness gave way a little at that, and she turned a sidelong look on Bren—looking down somewhat. “Bren of Najida.”
“Yes.”
She made an irreverent sound as if unconvinced.
“Betan-nadi, please, in the interests of the Edi and Lord Geigi, explain to her that the young man with the plane is Ragi, yes, the lord of Dur, neighbors to the Gan. He heard the Grandmother of the Ragi was in danger. He came from the far north, bringing her valued advisor. He tried to speak to you in your language—” That was the imagination he had of the situation—“wishing to be understood and pay you courtesy. He has come a long way to offer his help.”
Betan rendered that, or something similar, along with unlock the door, which if literal—locks being a foreign invention to the Edi, built on a Ragi word and no reasonable part of a discussion of nand’ Reijiri suggested that an intervention might be in order. There followed a rapid exchange involving the words Ragi, Geigi, and Grandmother on one side, then table, food, and Gan on the other, but resulting finally, apparently, in frowning assent.
“There will be dinner soon,” Betan said then, earnestly. “The lord of Dur will be welcome.”
“He has a room, surely, nadi-ji.” One was uneasy, regarding doors and locks.
“Soon,” Betan said, covering the matter with a polite bow. “He will be at dinner.”
At a certain point, not wishing to dig the pit wider, it was best to leave it to Betan.
He stood there, asking himself what that had been about. And turned, looking at Banichi and Jago.
“I have signaled Tano and Algini,” Banichi said. “Do we have a problem?”
“I believe Lord Reijiri may have gotten into difficulty. But it seems to be settled. He will be at dinner—one trusts, uninjured.”
“It is close to the hour,” Jago said. “Bindanda and the market truck are finally on the grounds. With the wardrobes. There was a security hold at the camp, now settled. And a flat tire on the way. But there will be a change of clothes before dinner, should you wish it.”
That . . . was a very pleasant option.
13
Two of their number were to take supper in their rooms—or in one room: Tatiseigi, otherwise alone, was receiving his with the dowager, and Bren wished he were attending—but with Cenedi and six other of the dowager’s aishid looming in the background, there would be little relaxation for the paidhi-aiji, who might not be made privy to needful information. But then—she might not tell Tatiseigi her intentions either.
Algini, however, currently meeting with Nawari on Guild matters, might manage to find some answers. Or at least hints of them.
He would have, for official dinner company, Reijiri, in all the opulence of the grand dining room—just the two of them.
“Are you all right?” he asked Reijiri on their meeting in the transverse hall, Banichi, Jago, and Tano in attendance. The Lord of Dur arrived down the hall starkly alone, but bearing no marks of violence. “One feared there might have been a problem, nandi.”
Ilisidi should have provided Reijiri at least one bodyguard. She would have at any other time in his experience; but it seemed likely to fall to him to do so, when he had fairly acute need for his entire team to be with him, dealing with the Edi staff. It was yet one more disturbing failure of basic courtesies.
“There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding,” Reijiri said, quite good naturedly. “First I am offered a rather dank basement with a locked door and then a fairly glorious suite with satin sheets, a sitting room, and a flower arrangement. One was most bemused by the flower arrangement. It seemed to wish me a happy birthing.”
One was appalled. But Reijiri’s spirit, at least, was undampened.
“But you are all right. Betan assured me you were being properly attended.”
“I am perfectly all right, nandi. There may have been a missed communication. Staff did apologize.”
“A basement.”
“Not at least a pit. We were not communicating well.”
“I regret to say it is the Gan accent,” Bren said. “I hope it is sufficiently cleared up. The alarm, that is.”
Reijiri laughed, then turned serious as they started down the hall, with Bren’s partial bodyguard behind. “The Edi,” Reijiri said, “have been at war and on guard in this place, in one way or another, for decades. The Gan have not, in the north. They interact little with outsiders, but they are not nearly so wary. Not so long in necessary contact with Ragi folk. Nor at war with the neighbors.”
“This place built planes once, and much of the first shuttle. Edi workers and Ragi. But there were only temporary Edi camps on Kajiminda, none otherwise in residence, excepting the household and orchard staff—until Lord Geigi began to move all the industry up to Cobo. The Edi kept the grounds, the orchards—which Najida’s rocky soil scarcely grows. They fish, but they are very good at gardening—given peace. Which I hope they will have plenty of in our lifetime. I doubt Lord Geigi will come down to earth again and I cannot see a successor for myself, unless Tabini-aiji appoints one. The land will all come to them, if I have my way. That is granted we can settle this, truly settle this business this round.”
“We have been fortunate in the north. Our colder water favors fish, and gods be thanked, not politics and not territorial feuds. The Gan are good neighbors. They fit well with us.”
“Down here—one hopes at some point Ashidama and the northern Marid alike will admit they cannot rebuild the lost Empire and simply trade and move goods. The Edi here actually have a just complaint against their neighbors, but they had rather plant trees.—The oldest orchard trees have names, do you know? They are spoken to. Informed of important things.”
“Truly?”
“I learned it from my major d’, in Najida. It is not a naive custom. It connects generations. I tell you, Geigi’s nephew, who was indiscriminately logging the forest and hacking down parts of the orchard, is very fortunate to be set at siring an heir for Calrunaidi. Lord Geigi would have Filed on him.”
“He will not come back.”
“Oh, Baiji will not leave the East. The dowager has given orders. His conniving is at an end.”
“Well done, that, nandi.”
“Bren is enough, if you will. We have so many causes in common.”
“Honored. Honored. Jiri, likewise. Causes in common, indeed. I by no means regret joining you in whatever it is we are engaged in down here—with the dowager involved, it cannot be a small matter.”
“It is not. Your presence, and Lord Tatiseigi’s—are very welcome. And a very hard trip, without guard and without baggage—I would offer wardrobe, but it would hardly fit—nor will Lord Geigi’s. And how we shall outfit Lord Tatiseigi is another matter . . .”
“I am not a concern. My aishid will be here, with my baggage, I have no doubt, by tomorrow or the day after. I was to fly down and back, and when I do not contact them from Cobo, I do not doubt they will be on their way, without the detour to Atageini. I only hope they can get past Najida station to reach your major d’.”
“I shall advise Cenedi. He is the one who can get a message to the encampment and to Najida.” They had paused in the hall. But now a young man appeared at an intersection of the hall, waiting for them by an open door, and there was indeed a faint spice in the air. “I think supper will be—”
