Defiance, page 23
—just ourselves, had been on his tongue.
But a door slammed somewhere unseen and running steps sounded behind them—another young man rushing from the great room, as they both turned, and Banichi and Jago instantly blocked the hall with Tano to the fore.
“Guild, nandiin!” the Edi exclaimed, skidding to a prudent halt. And still from that distance: “Guild! Four! On the shore!”
Four Guild was somebody’s aishid. A unit lacking someone. It might be Reijiri’s.
Except the timing.
“Which shore?” Banichi asked. “North or south?”
“North!” the young man exclaimed.
“Someone is using com,” Jago advised him. Which was not a good thing.
“Tano,” Banichi said. “Notify Cenedi.”
Tano ran back the way they had come, breakneck for the stairs.
“They could possibly be mine,” Reijiri said. “Or Lord Tatiseigi’s.”
“Banichi,” Bren said.
“One hears,” Banichi said. “We are understaffed here. Nadi! Who has seen them? Have they engaged?”
The young Edi, very out of breath, and wearing a heavy vest, outdoor wear, looked entirely confused. Reijiri uttered a string of words and they seemed to make sense. The lad, almost certainly having come in from outside, answered.
“The house has patrols out,” Reijiri said. “They found two boats. Four Guild, briefly spotted.”
“Two boats,” Bren objected, “and four Guild.”
“Did they see the Guild?” Banichi asked of the Edi, who looked both alarmed and offered a shrug.
“Did they see?” Bren repeated in the Edi language.
Violent gesture, affirmative. “We all saw. Then they disappeared. They told me run to the house.” There was more, something about following.
Jago’s head turned, her focus directed to the hall, and everything moved at once—a hand grabbed Bren’s arm and slung him behind a half-column, so hard that stars exploded and for a moment the whole view was wall. Guns were out, safeties clicked, and Bren turned against the wall, bruised and doing his best to stay behind that thin half-column. Guns were out. Safeties off. No shots had been fired. Reijiri was flat against the other wall, and as much as he could see past the column, the Edi messenger was on the floor over against Reijiri’s wall; and Banichi, Jago, and Tano were covering a single plainclothes figure far down the hallway, hands empty and held open in plain view.
Nomari.
“Stand still!” Banichi said, as Nomari started to move.
“Bren-nandi!” Nomari called out. “I am not armed!”
“That will be proved,” Banichi said. “Stand still. Nandiin, stay back!”
Behind the decorative half-pillars, that was. Bren stayed as much within the shelter as he could, risked a little more exposure to watch as Banichi none too politely advanced on Nomari.
No courtesy from Banichi in meeting, either, except to holster the pistol and seize Nomari’s arm, then shove him against the corridor wall and search him for weapons.
At that point it seemed safe enough to leave cover. Tano and Jago, pistols in hand, had not lowered them. Reijiri stood out from the wall, the unfortunate Edi lad gathered himself up from the floor, and they waited until Banichi abruptly turned the prospective lord of Ajuri about and brought him to face them.
Nomari stood there hard-breathing, no bow, not even a nod of courtesy.
“Two boats on the shore,” Banichi said. “One is yours, nadi?”
“One, yes,” Nomari said.
“No other boat with you.”
“No,” Nomari said.
“When?”
“Sundown. I came alone.”
“There was a second boat,” Banichi said. “How did you leave your bodyguard?”
Two blinks. No other movement. “I simply walked away.”
“Indeed. If your bodyguard has followed you, and it is certain they will, their lives are in danger, nandi. And so are Edi, by mistake.” Banichi rarely showed anger. He clearly did, now. “And if that boat means enemies, they are ashore and hunting all of us.”
A moment of silence. A scarcely controlled: “They can protect themselves.”
To Banichi, he dared say that. Bren sucked in a breath and strode into the midpoint of the hall.
“You have touched off the dowager’s security, nadi. An alarm at Najida will have touched off the encampment, and your bodyguard will have followed you. We, Najida, and the Guild camp are under a communications blackout for a reason. Need one explain the risk to local people and your bodyguard?”
Nomari stood there glaring down at him, necessarily down, from his height, locked in his own sense of righteousness.
“And you, nand’ paidhi,” Nomari said, “should not have left me behind.”
Regrets? An apology? Recognition of the situation?
Damned right Nomari understood, and his reaction was damned well not remorse. Anger. Resentment. Distress. He radiated all that and more.
Bren took a deep breath, seeking to calm the adrenaline rush. Anger was the antithesis of the paidhi’s job. He was the peacemaker. The negotiator. The translator. Others could be angry. He could not stand between sides, if he began to be. And he had just broken his own cardinal rule.
So, also, had the prospective lord of Ajuri, whose expression was unreadable. Violent. And distraught.
Steps thundered down the stairs at mid-hall, behind him. Multiple. With, one did not need to look to know, weapons in hand.
Nomari did not even glance that direction.
“What is this?” Cenedi’s voice.
“Nomari-nadi crossed the bay from Najida alone,” Banichi said as Cenedi and Nawari joined them, with Algini. “His aishid is possibly in the woods northward. They may have observed current orders. They may have sent a runner to the encampment. I do not know the unit. This person’s talent we already know.”
“Nadiin,” Nomari said, “I laid false trail, toward the upper road, for other searchers. They are better than that. Very much better. Let me go back. They are looking to find me. I can find them.”
Cenedi turned a deadly cold look on Nomari.
“I ask,” Nomari said to Banichi. The anger melted, his voice broke. “If they came—they expect to find me. They will respect the blackout. They will not use coms.”
Cenedi was not, technically, in charge—but he might assert that, anyway. Less so, technically, was Banichi.
“Let him go,” Bren said. “If they are not his—he is slippery enough. He still stands a chance.”
Two senior Guild looked reluctant. But Banichi nodded and gestured dismissal. “Go. The paidhi’s word on it. Go.”
Nomari hesitated a heartbeat, looked straight at Bren, then turned and ran.
“Someone should follow him,” Cenedi said grimly.
“Tano,” Banichi said. “Algini.”
They went, at a more deliberate pace. Nomari was already well down the hall.
Bren drew in a long breath, not looking at Banichi or Cenedi. Fool, to bet on the man? Neither had objected, and it was not protocol that stayed them: the paidhi’s authority, even as a court official, was marginal, if Guild objected.
Nomari turned a corner. A door slammed open and, several moments later, clicked shut.
Reijiri moved closer, doubt in his expression at the moment, but he said nothing.
One might just have done something both foolish and dangerous—with the dowager, Atageini, and Dur all at risk.
Not to mention Ajuri, who was, if those were not his guards, at the greatest risk of all.
I should not have called that, Bren thought, heart pounding, and a bruised shoulder making itself felt. I should not have made that call.
“That was,” Reijiri said calmly, “dare one guess . . . the lord of Ajuri?”
The lad who had brought the message still lingered.
“Well done, nadi,” Bren said. “Very well done. Go advise Betan-nadi of all of it. We know the man. It is all right. But we regret another room must be made ready for another guest, when they return.”
The young man bowed and departed. Another, older Edi appeared at the door, half in, half out, and looking uncertain. “Dinner is ready to be served,” he said in passable Ragi. “If you wish.”
It took a moment of thought. Of sanity.
He managed to say to Reijiri, without irony, “If you still wish to join me, informally, there is dinner. If there is no other event. Or upstairs, if you wish.”
“Indeed,” Reijiri said. “With pleasure.”
“I will go up,” Cenedi said. “Banichi. I trust you have matters in hand.”
“As much as possible,” Banichi said. “We have not breached silence . . . unless Nomari’s guard has.”
Cenedi said nothing, just exchanged a direct look with Banichi, and things were surely understood.
Your principal took charge, that was to say. Deal with it.
Cenedi and Nawari headed for the stairs. Banichi and Jago stayed. Reijiri stood among them.
What was there to say, Reijiri being present? What he would have said is, Am I a fool?
Appetite had fled. His shoulder hurt. Tano would regret the shoulder if he knew.
Tano and Algini were in potential danger out there, in the cover of the woods. While inside they were trying to stay discreet and quiet, despite all. The plane. Two boats.
God.
• • •
A bottle disappeared in the first course. The food was elegant, extremely so. But sparse, given the massive seasonal arrangement. The wine deserved more studied attention, and did not get it.
One had to thank the cook, however, a modest woman, young, very young for the post. “Please go upstairs,” Bren said, “inquire at my rooms, and say to Bindanda, who is the heart of my own kitchen, that you and he and my staff should enjoy two bottles of this wine tonight, in appreciation of this beautiful dinner. Will you do that?”
The very young woman put hands to her face—embarrassment, and bowed twice. “One is honored, nand’ paidhi.” It was not the best Ragi, but it far exceeded his own ability to say it in Edi—a sin one vowed to remedy.
“Indeed,” Reijiri said, and said it in Edi. Or Gan, the two being that close. The young woman looked abashed, and happy, and exhausted, and she probably would not say exactly what he had said. But the wine would get upstairs. And Bindanda and this talented young cook should meet.
Himself, he wanted to bow his head in his hands and not think for a space, after, but he cast a sidelong look at Reijiri and flexed his shoulders back.
Reijiri looked as undone—lack of sleep. The wine. Being slammed into the other wall.
“There is a second room in my suite, if you would prefer it over the birthing day bouquet,” Bren said. “And I have staff to lend, if not a wardrobe that fits. If you will, nandi.”
“Jiri,” Reijiri reminded him. “And I would be grateful. Extremely. A bed. A bath. In either order.”
“Both. Take precedence in the bath. I have a problem afoot.”
Reijiri hesitated a moment. “Is he . . . much like that?”
Referring to the prospective lord of Ajuri. One hesitated in turn—how much to say. But a great deal had been laid bare out in the hallway. “One could surmise—he finds himself close to the agency that killed his family and is restricted from joining us. He was a child at the time. He was there. You know the event.”
“Yes.”
“He escaped—at an age when children are still guided by their parents. He survived—he has never said how. He moved from place to place—one suspects, on the railroad, alone, with no fare. He became very adept at vanishing, at very least. He was a switchman for the railroad. He moved with the trains. He ended up in the Marid, with what purpose is uncertain, but he employed his skills for Lord Machigi, ultimately, when Tiajo took over the Dojisigin, and the Shadow Guild began to make its moves—aided by—originated by—an Ajuri in Shejidan, an officer of the Guild, one Shishogi. Discovery of Shishogi’s work—to compress a great deal—illumined a great many things that had gone on in Ajuri.”
“Dur paid sharp attention to that,” Reijiri said. “And it did explain certain things. But not all. That the trouble moved to the Marid seemed to us to be a good thing, at the time.”
“Nomari was involved as Lord Machigi’s agent, mostly in Senjin, to my understanding, mostly reporting on Dojisigin operatives in Koperna—and the traffic that crossed over to the Dojisigin. He still has a relationship with Lord Machigi, now that he has made his identity apparent, now that he is standing for the lordship of Ajuri. The potential politics of that are uncertain. But, yes, between us and many others, that relationship is a concern.”
“A far distance between Ajuri and the Taisigin.”
“Indeed. But Kadagidi clan—Lord Tatiseigi’s neighbor—and Ajuri’s—had a penchant for trade relationships. And marriages with Dojisigi women.”
“Until the overthrow. Dur held as far apart as possible in that year. There was little we could do except hold apart.”
“One appreciates the difficulty.—By this time, I think Nomari-nadi was in the Marid. The Kadagidi went down. So did, ultimately, Ajuri, and Shishogi, in the Guild. But in all the turmoil in the north, the Dojisigi remained untouched in the South. And the Shadow Guild had surfaced, taking down Machigi’s father, and trying to take down Machigi. But Machigi formed a very efficient network working against the Dojisigin, and the Shadow Guild. And that is the time in which Nomari supplied Machigi with information, which he got as a common railway worker, moving from place to place, wherever trains run. That is Nomari. He lacks certain graces. Lacks fear, to my observation, which ordinary caution would suggest. He has qualities that recommend him as a successor in Ajuri. He is suspicious. Quick. And has the skills of the Guild, not officially acquired. He is accustomed to operate without associates. To think without associates. But his clan accepts him. Fervently. More to the point, as this human understands it—he attaches to them.”
“Down to that one point, one could fear this neighbor,” Reijiri said. “He has that man’chi. You are sure.”
“It is hard for me to judge. My attachments are—as my aishid informs me—occasionally hazardous. But I understand passion. And that seems to exist in him. Deeply. One believes he feels compelled to be part of whatever is going to happen here.”
“And resents being left behind and ignorant,” Reijiri said quietly. “One caught that as well.”
“The question is—with the Shadow Guild, who killed his family and ruined his clan, involved—what drives him now. Is it revenge for his own losses? Or his responsibility to his clan? But he has gone back after his guards . . . with, I think, concern.”
Reijiri drew a long, deep breath and let it go. “It is said humans cannot comprehend man’chi. You disprove this assumption.” And before Bren could respond: “Your assessment agrees with what I sense. He is one thing. And he is the other. He is broken. Looking for his pieces.”
“Looking for his bodyguards, for a beginning,” Bren said with a chill thought of the woods, and too many people on edge tonight. “And I hope he turns up with them, but he is not incapable of taking out in the other direction, to Separti, and a boat. To take on the Shadow Guild in his own way—which is not ineffective. I should also say—from our party, we have more than one unit at loose ends out there: two Guild that left us at Najida, that have no association with him or us. They are looking for their own missing pieces.”
“Guild? Two?”
“Guild or Shadow Guild. Which they are—still remains a question. They insist their duty was forced, not given. They believe their partners could be held now in Jorida.”
“An unhappy situation.”
“To say the least.”
Staff was waiting to clear away the dinner and the arrangement. Banichi and Jago were in conference at a table beyond the official tables, and they could have no word from Tano and Algini, who were out there trying to assure nothing worse arrived.
Reijiri, obviously exhausted, excused himself to the promised bath.
14
Reijiri did not make it past the bath, where he fell asleep on the dressing bench in his borrowed bathrobe, so the Edi reported; and Bren looked in to find staff had kept the furnace up, and simply reported the matter. Bren closed the garment bag to protect the clothes—Guild- and Edi-lent—then delivered Reijiri’s own clothing to staff, to launder and have ready in the morning. “Keep the heat going,” he told staff, and went upstairs to advise Narani their intended guest was camped elsewhere, and to change his dinner coat for a hardier one.
“If he comes here,” he told Narani, “give him whatever hospitality he needs.”
“Yes,” Narani said. And did not even ask whether he was going to bed now. He had arrived alone, a spooky feeling after all these years, going about in a strange house, with no one attending: Banichi and Jago were separately maintaining a watch on the north entry, Reijiri, likewise unattended, was lying on a bench in the bath, and there was yet no word from Tano and Algini, who were out there not to interfere in Nomari’s search for his bodyguard, but to keep a line on the situation, as the saying went.
And Banichi and Jago trusted that he was safely situated in the sitting room, with no outside windows, waiting for Reijiri, with Betan’s day staff winding down their shift—so he was morally obliged to be there until they came for him. Likely there was no regular night staff in the house except the watch, but laundry was being done and dishes were being washed. Cenedi was closeted with Nawari and several of the dowager’s aishid in a smaller room nearby with maps and charts. His own aishid was fully occupied. And he wished he knew where and how far Tano and Algini were tracking. There were patrols out, Edi folk, armed and vigilant, and not necessarily well-informed. One hoped they understood. Betan was no novice at managing the estate grounds.
He had left a packet there, that Betan had gathered for him, a collection of maps, hand-marked by previous users, showing the position of Kajiminda on the peninsula—showing, in erasable marker, the area of the peninsula ceded to the Edi—it might be Geigi’s own hand that had made that line. There was a mark for, he was sure, the building site where Edi folk were building a permanent structure—the first since they had worked to build Najida itself, under Ragi direction, and probably—he hated to think so—under armed guard.
But a door slammed somewhere unseen and running steps sounded behind them—another young man rushing from the great room, as they both turned, and Banichi and Jago instantly blocked the hall with Tano to the fore.
“Guild, nandiin!” the Edi exclaimed, skidding to a prudent halt. And still from that distance: “Guild! Four! On the shore!”
Four Guild was somebody’s aishid. A unit lacking someone. It might be Reijiri’s.
Except the timing.
“Which shore?” Banichi asked. “North or south?”
“North!” the young man exclaimed.
“Someone is using com,” Jago advised him. Which was not a good thing.
“Tano,” Banichi said. “Notify Cenedi.”
Tano ran back the way they had come, breakneck for the stairs.
“They could possibly be mine,” Reijiri said. “Or Lord Tatiseigi’s.”
“Banichi,” Bren said.
“One hears,” Banichi said. “We are understaffed here. Nadi! Who has seen them? Have they engaged?”
The young Edi, very out of breath, and wearing a heavy vest, outdoor wear, looked entirely confused. Reijiri uttered a string of words and they seemed to make sense. The lad, almost certainly having come in from outside, answered.
“The house has patrols out,” Reijiri said. “They found two boats. Four Guild, briefly spotted.”
“Two boats,” Bren objected, “and four Guild.”
“Did they see the Guild?” Banichi asked of the Edi, who looked both alarmed and offered a shrug.
“Did they see?” Bren repeated in the Edi language.
Violent gesture, affirmative. “We all saw. Then they disappeared. They told me run to the house.” There was more, something about following.
Jago’s head turned, her focus directed to the hall, and everything moved at once—a hand grabbed Bren’s arm and slung him behind a half-column, so hard that stars exploded and for a moment the whole view was wall. Guns were out, safeties clicked, and Bren turned against the wall, bruised and doing his best to stay behind that thin half-column. Guns were out. Safeties off. No shots had been fired. Reijiri was flat against the other wall, and as much as he could see past the column, the Edi messenger was on the floor over against Reijiri’s wall; and Banichi, Jago, and Tano were covering a single plainclothes figure far down the hallway, hands empty and held open in plain view.
Nomari.
“Stand still!” Banichi said, as Nomari started to move.
“Bren-nandi!” Nomari called out. “I am not armed!”
“That will be proved,” Banichi said. “Stand still. Nandiin, stay back!”
Behind the decorative half-pillars, that was. Bren stayed as much within the shelter as he could, risked a little more exposure to watch as Banichi none too politely advanced on Nomari.
No courtesy from Banichi in meeting, either, except to holster the pistol and seize Nomari’s arm, then shove him against the corridor wall and search him for weapons.
At that point it seemed safe enough to leave cover. Tano and Jago, pistols in hand, had not lowered them. Reijiri stood out from the wall, the unfortunate Edi lad gathered himself up from the floor, and they waited until Banichi abruptly turned the prospective lord of Ajuri about and brought him to face them.
Nomari stood there hard-breathing, no bow, not even a nod of courtesy.
“Two boats on the shore,” Banichi said. “One is yours, nadi?”
“One, yes,” Nomari said.
“No other boat with you.”
“No,” Nomari said.
“When?”
“Sundown. I came alone.”
“There was a second boat,” Banichi said. “How did you leave your bodyguard?”
Two blinks. No other movement. “I simply walked away.”
“Indeed. If your bodyguard has followed you, and it is certain they will, their lives are in danger, nandi. And so are Edi, by mistake.” Banichi rarely showed anger. He clearly did, now. “And if that boat means enemies, they are ashore and hunting all of us.”
A moment of silence. A scarcely controlled: “They can protect themselves.”
To Banichi, he dared say that. Bren sucked in a breath and strode into the midpoint of the hall.
“You have touched off the dowager’s security, nadi. An alarm at Najida will have touched off the encampment, and your bodyguard will have followed you. We, Najida, and the Guild camp are under a communications blackout for a reason. Need one explain the risk to local people and your bodyguard?”
Nomari stood there glaring down at him, necessarily down, from his height, locked in his own sense of righteousness.
“And you, nand’ paidhi,” Nomari said, “should not have left me behind.”
Regrets? An apology? Recognition of the situation?
Damned right Nomari understood, and his reaction was damned well not remorse. Anger. Resentment. Distress. He radiated all that and more.
Bren took a deep breath, seeking to calm the adrenaline rush. Anger was the antithesis of the paidhi’s job. He was the peacemaker. The negotiator. The translator. Others could be angry. He could not stand between sides, if he began to be. And he had just broken his own cardinal rule.
So, also, had the prospective lord of Ajuri, whose expression was unreadable. Violent. And distraught.
Steps thundered down the stairs at mid-hall, behind him. Multiple. With, one did not need to look to know, weapons in hand.
Nomari did not even glance that direction.
“What is this?” Cenedi’s voice.
“Nomari-nadi crossed the bay from Najida alone,” Banichi said as Cenedi and Nawari joined them, with Algini. “His aishid is possibly in the woods northward. They may have observed current orders. They may have sent a runner to the encampment. I do not know the unit. This person’s talent we already know.”
“Nadiin,” Nomari said, “I laid false trail, toward the upper road, for other searchers. They are better than that. Very much better. Let me go back. They are looking to find me. I can find them.”
Cenedi turned a deadly cold look on Nomari.
“I ask,” Nomari said to Banichi. The anger melted, his voice broke. “If they came—they expect to find me. They will respect the blackout. They will not use coms.”
Cenedi was not, technically, in charge—but he might assert that, anyway. Less so, technically, was Banichi.
“Let him go,” Bren said. “If they are not his—he is slippery enough. He still stands a chance.”
Two senior Guild looked reluctant. But Banichi nodded and gestured dismissal. “Go. The paidhi’s word on it. Go.”
Nomari hesitated a heartbeat, looked straight at Bren, then turned and ran.
“Someone should follow him,” Cenedi said grimly.
“Tano,” Banichi said. “Algini.”
They went, at a more deliberate pace. Nomari was already well down the hall.
Bren drew in a long breath, not looking at Banichi or Cenedi. Fool, to bet on the man? Neither had objected, and it was not protocol that stayed them: the paidhi’s authority, even as a court official, was marginal, if Guild objected.
Nomari turned a corner. A door slammed open and, several moments later, clicked shut.
Reijiri moved closer, doubt in his expression at the moment, but he said nothing.
One might just have done something both foolish and dangerous—with the dowager, Atageini, and Dur all at risk.
Not to mention Ajuri, who was, if those were not his guards, at the greatest risk of all.
I should not have called that, Bren thought, heart pounding, and a bruised shoulder making itself felt. I should not have made that call.
“That was,” Reijiri said calmly, “dare one guess . . . the lord of Ajuri?”
The lad who had brought the message still lingered.
“Well done, nadi,” Bren said. “Very well done. Go advise Betan-nadi of all of it. We know the man. It is all right. But we regret another room must be made ready for another guest, when they return.”
The young man bowed and departed. Another, older Edi appeared at the door, half in, half out, and looking uncertain. “Dinner is ready to be served,” he said in passable Ragi. “If you wish.”
It took a moment of thought. Of sanity.
He managed to say to Reijiri, without irony, “If you still wish to join me, informally, there is dinner. If there is no other event. Or upstairs, if you wish.”
“Indeed,” Reijiri said. “With pleasure.”
“I will go up,” Cenedi said. “Banichi. I trust you have matters in hand.”
“As much as possible,” Banichi said. “We have not breached silence . . . unless Nomari’s guard has.”
Cenedi said nothing, just exchanged a direct look with Banichi, and things were surely understood.
Your principal took charge, that was to say. Deal with it.
Cenedi and Nawari headed for the stairs. Banichi and Jago stayed. Reijiri stood among them.
What was there to say, Reijiri being present? What he would have said is, Am I a fool?
Appetite had fled. His shoulder hurt. Tano would regret the shoulder if he knew.
Tano and Algini were in potential danger out there, in the cover of the woods. While inside they were trying to stay discreet and quiet, despite all. The plane. Two boats.
God.
• • •
A bottle disappeared in the first course. The food was elegant, extremely so. But sparse, given the massive seasonal arrangement. The wine deserved more studied attention, and did not get it.
One had to thank the cook, however, a modest woman, young, very young for the post. “Please go upstairs,” Bren said, “inquire at my rooms, and say to Bindanda, who is the heart of my own kitchen, that you and he and my staff should enjoy two bottles of this wine tonight, in appreciation of this beautiful dinner. Will you do that?”
The very young woman put hands to her face—embarrassment, and bowed twice. “One is honored, nand’ paidhi.” It was not the best Ragi, but it far exceeded his own ability to say it in Edi—a sin one vowed to remedy.
“Indeed,” Reijiri said, and said it in Edi. Or Gan, the two being that close. The young woman looked abashed, and happy, and exhausted, and she probably would not say exactly what he had said. But the wine would get upstairs. And Bindanda and this talented young cook should meet.
Himself, he wanted to bow his head in his hands and not think for a space, after, but he cast a sidelong look at Reijiri and flexed his shoulders back.
Reijiri looked as undone—lack of sleep. The wine. Being slammed into the other wall.
“There is a second room in my suite, if you would prefer it over the birthing day bouquet,” Bren said. “And I have staff to lend, if not a wardrobe that fits. If you will, nandi.”
“Jiri,” Reijiri reminded him. “And I would be grateful. Extremely. A bed. A bath. In either order.”
“Both. Take precedence in the bath. I have a problem afoot.”
Reijiri hesitated a moment. “Is he . . . much like that?”
Referring to the prospective lord of Ajuri. One hesitated in turn—how much to say. But a great deal had been laid bare out in the hallway. “One could surmise—he finds himself close to the agency that killed his family and is restricted from joining us. He was a child at the time. He was there. You know the event.”
“Yes.”
“He escaped—at an age when children are still guided by their parents. He survived—he has never said how. He moved from place to place—one suspects, on the railroad, alone, with no fare. He became very adept at vanishing, at very least. He was a switchman for the railroad. He moved with the trains. He ended up in the Marid, with what purpose is uncertain, but he employed his skills for Lord Machigi, ultimately, when Tiajo took over the Dojisigin, and the Shadow Guild began to make its moves—aided by—originated by—an Ajuri in Shejidan, an officer of the Guild, one Shishogi. Discovery of Shishogi’s work—to compress a great deal—illumined a great many things that had gone on in Ajuri.”
“Dur paid sharp attention to that,” Reijiri said. “And it did explain certain things. But not all. That the trouble moved to the Marid seemed to us to be a good thing, at the time.”
“Nomari was involved as Lord Machigi’s agent, mostly in Senjin, to my understanding, mostly reporting on Dojisigin operatives in Koperna—and the traffic that crossed over to the Dojisigin. He still has a relationship with Lord Machigi, now that he has made his identity apparent, now that he is standing for the lordship of Ajuri. The potential politics of that are uncertain. But, yes, between us and many others, that relationship is a concern.”
“A far distance between Ajuri and the Taisigin.”
“Indeed. But Kadagidi clan—Lord Tatiseigi’s neighbor—and Ajuri’s—had a penchant for trade relationships. And marriages with Dojisigi women.”
“Until the overthrow. Dur held as far apart as possible in that year. There was little we could do except hold apart.”
“One appreciates the difficulty.—By this time, I think Nomari-nadi was in the Marid. The Kadagidi went down. So did, ultimately, Ajuri, and Shishogi, in the Guild. But in all the turmoil in the north, the Dojisigi remained untouched in the South. And the Shadow Guild had surfaced, taking down Machigi’s father, and trying to take down Machigi. But Machigi formed a very efficient network working against the Dojisigin, and the Shadow Guild. And that is the time in which Nomari supplied Machigi with information, which he got as a common railway worker, moving from place to place, wherever trains run. That is Nomari. He lacks certain graces. Lacks fear, to my observation, which ordinary caution would suggest. He has qualities that recommend him as a successor in Ajuri. He is suspicious. Quick. And has the skills of the Guild, not officially acquired. He is accustomed to operate without associates. To think without associates. But his clan accepts him. Fervently. More to the point, as this human understands it—he attaches to them.”
“Down to that one point, one could fear this neighbor,” Reijiri said. “He has that man’chi. You are sure.”
“It is hard for me to judge. My attachments are—as my aishid informs me—occasionally hazardous. But I understand passion. And that seems to exist in him. Deeply. One believes he feels compelled to be part of whatever is going to happen here.”
“And resents being left behind and ignorant,” Reijiri said quietly. “One caught that as well.”
“The question is—with the Shadow Guild, who killed his family and ruined his clan, involved—what drives him now. Is it revenge for his own losses? Or his responsibility to his clan? But he has gone back after his guards . . . with, I think, concern.”
Reijiri drew a long, deep breath and let it go. “It is said humans cannot comprehend man’chi. You disprove this assumption.” And before Bren could respond: “Your assessment agrees with what I sense. He is one thing. And he is the other. He is broken. Looking for his pieces.”
“Looking for his bodyguards, for a beginning,” Bren said with a chill thought of the woods, and too many people on edge tonight. “And I hope he turns up with them, but he is not incapable of taking out in the other direction, to Separti, and a boat. To take on the Shadow Guild in his own way—which is not ineffective. I should also say—from our party, we have more than one unit at loose ends out there: two Guild that left us at Najida, that have no association with him or us. They are looking for their own missing pieces.”
“Guild? Two?”
“Guild or Shadow Guild. Which they are—still remains a question. They insist their duty was forced, not given. They believe their partners could be held now in Jorida.”
“An unhappy situation.”
“To say the least.”
Staff was waiting to clear away the dinner and the arrangement. Banichi and Jago were in conference at a table beyond the official tables, and they could have no word from Tano and Algini, who were out there trying to assure nothing worse arrived.
Reijiri, obviously exhausted, excused himself to the promised bath.
14
Reijiri did not make it past the bath, where he fell asleep on the dressing bench in his borrowed bathrobe, so the Edi reported; and Bren looked in to find staff had kept the furnace up, and simply reported the matter. Bren closed the garment bag to protect the clothes—Guild- and Edi-lent—then delivered Reijiri’s own clothing to staff, to launder and have ready in the morning. “Keep the heat going,” he told staff, and went upstairs to advise Narani their intended guest was camped elsewhere, and to change his dinner coat for a hardier one.
“If he comes here,” he told Narani, “give him whatever hospitality he needs.”
“Yes,” Narani said. And did not even ask whether he was going to bed now. He had arrived alone, a spooky feeling after all these years, going about in a strange house, with no one attending: Banichi and Jago were separately maintaining a watch on the north entry, Reijiri, likewise unattended, was lying on a bench in the bath, and there was yet no word from Tano and Algini, who were out there not to interfere in Nomari’s search for his bodyguard, but to keep a line on the situation, as the saying went.
And Banichi and Jago trusted that he was safely situated in the sitting room, with no outside windows, waiting for Reijiri, with Betan’s day staff winding down their shift—so he was morally obliged to be there until they came for him. Likely there was no regular night staff in the house except the watch, but laundry was being done and dishes were being washed. Cenedi was closeted with Nawari and several of the dowager’s aishid in a smaller room nearby with maps and charts. His own aishid was fully occupied. And he wished he knew where and how far Tano and Algini were tracking. There were patrols out, Edi folk, armed and vigilant, and not necessarily well-informed. One hoped they understood. Betan was no novice at managing the estate grounds.
He had left a packet there, that Betan had gathered for him, a collection of maps, hand-marked by previous users, showing the position of Kajiminda on the peninsula—showing, in erasable marker, the area of the peninsula ceded to the Edi—it might be Geigi’s own hand that had made that line. There was a mark for, he was sure, the building site where Edi folk were building a permanent structure—the first since they had worked to build Najida itself, under Ragi direction, and probably—he hated to think so—under armed guard.
