Protector: Foreigner #14, page 24
Then they had to stand and keep their mecheiti from milling about, while Cenedi and Nawari slid down and helped mani get down—mani made her mecheiti drop a shoulder, and got down much more ably than he expected she could after that ride. One of the junior grooms handed her her cane as Great-uncle’s senior bodyguard assisted him.
He himself, not confident he could get Jeichido to drop her shoulder, had gotten up the Taibeni way, with a jump, but that was probably not the best way to start with one of Great-uncle’s stable, and it might have given Jeichido ideas she could get her way. He tapped her shoulder with the quirt, now, repeatedly, and after a little hesitation, she extended her leg, letting him swing down.
He wanted to take her into the stable himself, and work with her. But he had his guests to see to. He handed the reins to a junior groom, and thought if he could manage it he would come out to the stables later, and maybe have a little time with her.
But getting the mecheiti unburdened and into the stable had to go fairly quickly, for safety, and it was, each mecheita handed off in order, and the herd-leader led into the stable to be quieted with a little reward of grain. The leaders were all clear, following him of their own accord. All around him riders were getting down, and he went to be sure his guests knew to get clear and get out.
Nand’ Bren and Banichi and Jago were with them, he saw, helping them get down; and mani and Great-uncle were safe, over by the small gate people used leaving the stableyard. He just ducked through the rails, and waited for his guests beside the gate.
Within the pens, only the grooms were moving about now. Mecheiti, still under saddle, were mostly interested in the grain waiting for them, all threat forgotten.
“Well managed,” Uncle Tatiseigi said. “Well-managed, Nephew.” Great-uncle and mani went on to talk to Jase-aiji and nand’ Bren.
And his guests came out, last, windblown, happy and a little out of breath.
“That was good,” Gene said in Ragi.
“Was it, nadiin-ji?” he asked. He hoped it was. “Rene-ji?”
“It was—” She lapsed into ship-speak. “I did it! I did it and I didn’t fall off, did I?”
“Told you,” Gene said.
“I want to do it again,” Irene said.
“I’m sore,” Artur said. “But it was good. It’s so weird. You really wonder what they’re thinking.”
“Your great-grandmother can really ride,” Gene said. “That was something! Were they going to fight?”
“Jeichido was going to move up past her,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “They try that. But mani is faster. And smarter.”
“Wow,” Artur said. “Jegari said they can run. I wish they ran.”
Cajeiri had to laugh. “Oh, they can run, Arti-ji. They can run. We were all working to keep them just walking.” They had begun, after the others, to walk back to the house. “Hot baths, now. Or we shall all hurt tomorrow.” Antaro and Jegari were with him, and Lucasi and Veijico had stopped to wait for them, at the entry to the house.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said somberly, and nodded to the side of the door. Cajeiri stepped aside. So did his guests. And by Lucasi’s expression, whatever it was, was not good.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said, “your grandfather has just been assassinated.”
“Who?” he asked. Then: “Did my father do it?” He hoped not. He hoped his parents were managing to make peace while he was out of the way and not causing any trouble.
But if his father had just killed his mother’s father—
“Rumor has not had time to reach us,” Lucasi said. “We got this as we tapped into house base. One is not certain if Cenedi himself knows, yet. Jegari and Antaro are trying to learn details.”
Mani could have arranged it, Cajeiri thought, and Cenedi would certainly know.
Nand’ Bren had passed them, on his way into the house. Several of mani’s young men had lingered outside, watching them, Cajeiri thought, or maybe also getting the news.
He did not want to be looked at. He gathered up his guests and his aishid and brought them inside, then back into the nook under the adjacent stairs, trying to figure out what happened next in the world, and how to deal with his guests.
“Is something wrong?” Gene asked, and in Ragi: “What is it, nandi?”
“My grandfather is dead.” He did not want to alarm them. But they were going to find out. “Assassinated. Just now.”
They looked shocked. He was shocked, too, he decided. He was not exactly sorry, because his grandfather had threatened him, and his father, and scared him so he never wanted to see him again. But he was shocked, shaken, for some reason he could not quite understand.
“That’s terrible,” Artur said faintly. “We’re sorry.”
“One regrets,” Gene said in Ragi.
“What can we do?” Irene asked.
“Nothing. Nothing, nadiin-ji. He was—” He had no words for his grandfather, even in Ragi, and the more complicated things were words his guests had not learned. “He was dangerous. Bad toward me. Toward my great-grandmother. Toward my father.”
His guests looked confused, a little upset, not knowing what to do or say. And he only wanted to get them into a safe place and have his staff find out things.
“We are safe here,” he said. “No trouble.” He led the way back to the steps, and hurried up two flights of stairs with all of them behind him.
He thought then, at the very top step: Did Mother do it?
• • •
“Who did it?” Bren asked of his aishid, inside the lower hallway. He had intended, when they had first gotten the word, to follow Jase upstairs to his room and see what his aishid and Jase himself could learn. But the dowager had said, shortly, with no reference to courtesy: “Nand’ paidhi,” and headed down the lower hall with Tatiseigi, Cenedi, and their bodyguards.
Singular, that brusque invitation had been—meaning it was a conference needing him, not Jase—needing his connection to the world and his particular need-to-know. Ilisidi was, with what skill he had at reading Ilisidi, caught by surprise.
He followed with his own bodyguard, a traveling briefing, at a pace that gave them a little time, before he should be swept up and told things as Ilisidi saw them to be.
Hence the: “Who did it?”—because one real possibility was Ilisidi; but by her sudden dark shift in mood he didn’t think she’d ordered it, or expected it.
“There are a range of possibilities,” Banichi said. “None certain.”
“Information is slower to come than we would like,” Algini said. “We have notified the camps. Security is on high alert—but there is no apparent threat to Atageini territory.”
The news was minutes old—had arrived on exterior Guild communications as they were riding into the stables. “When did it happen?” he asked.
“The event,” Algini answered, “within the last half hour. Details are lacking as yet, but his bodyguard has reported—they survived. The report came from Guild Headquarters. We relayed it to the aiji, so he is aware, in case the Guild has excluded his bodyguard.”
The damned restriction. The apparently petty rules question that now placed the aiji’s security in the dark, while there was an assassination that had reconfigured the political landscape.
Jago said: “We just now asked Jase-aiji to notify Lord Geigi and signal we are not threatened here, Bren-ji, but to be aware.”
“Has the young gentleman been informed?”
“His aishid, Lord Tatiseigi’s, and yours all had the first notice from the house. He has gone upstairs with his aishid and with his guests.”
Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.
It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji—but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.
He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble—but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and that meant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.
Ilisidi hadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.
“Recommendations, nadiin-ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.
“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.
There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.
Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger—or weaker—leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.
Damiri?
If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.
They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.
There was a chair ready for him, point of a triangle with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. He sank onto it. There was no preamble, no formality of a tea service. It had gone straight into a business discussion.
“My great-grandson has been informed,” Ilisidi said. “I shall call him into private conference and we shall talk. Lest you ask, we had nothing to do with this, paidhi. Nor did our host. About my grandson, or any other, we have no information.”
“We do not believe it is in any sense your grandson’s action, aiji-ma,” Cenedi said. “We are less sure about Damiri-daja, but we do not think it likely. We believe it is within Ajuri clan. That it should have happened, we find somewhat surprising, aiji-ma, but not greatly so—if it resulted from Komaji’s actions in the capital. Many in the clan have not been satisfied with Lord Komaji’s leadership. His foray southward could have lost him man’chi. In that case, a new leadership will have to establish its policies and choose its enemies. We do not even know that it was a Guild assassination, or if so, if there was a Filing.”
“This is an uncommon lack of information,” Tatiseigi said, and Bren took in a slow breath and kept his mouth shut on the things he knew, which, at least to his knowledge, Tatiseigi did not know—close links between the Kadagidi and Ajuri. The significance of Haikuti being assigned to the Kadagidi.
That hypothetical administrator sitting inside the Guild, arranging his chess pieces about the board . . . would not want Damiri sitting in Komaji’s place, asking questions about Ajuri’s actions and Ajuri’s shaky finances . . . and least of all would he want her asking into Ajuri’s staffing.
“The outlook for our situation here, Nedi-ji?”
A nod. “Improved, in the near term, aiji-ma. We cannot answer for the choice the clan itself may make. We are still uncertain whether Lord Komaji had any idea that Tatiseigi is here, or that you and the young gentleman and his guests are not, as generally advertised, in Malguri. Popular speculation on the assassination is more likely to center on your grandson and the consort—and a belief that the aiji has acted without Filing may raise some debate and a demand for a Guild investigation, which would come to nothing. More worrisome, the aiji’s other enemies, known and unknown, may take alarm and reassess their security, fearing the aiji might have thrown aside Guild rules altogether and decided to act against them. The aiji’s choice of bodyguards is an ongoing issue with his detractors. His most dangerous enemies care less about the principle of Guild rules than about the aiji’s increasing ability to deny them information—and we have cut them off, we believe. In the last few days we have silenced every trickle of real information and substituted certain things that we have loosed like dye into a water source—to find out where it resurfaces. We have already seen results from that. But then—Komaji is killed, amid this silence we have created. The ones who killed Komaji know who killed Komaji, but certain of our enemies do not know, and the warier among them may no longer trust what information they do get.”
Ilisidi nodded as she listened, her hand atop the cane set before her, fingers moving in a slow, even rhythm. Tatiseigi had shut down all expression. But Ilisidi—only listened.
“Well,” she said. “Well-stated, Nedi-ji. We do not think, Tati-ji, that Damiri-daja has any intention of taking the lordship in Ajuri.”
“One would hope not, aiji-ma!”
“And if Ajuri retreats from threatening Tirnamardi,” Ilisidi said, “we are glad. Have you any word, Bren-nandi? Have you spoken to my great-grandson?”
“He has gone upstairs with his aishid, aiji-ma, and so has Jase-aiji. Jase-aiji is able to contact Lord Geigi, and will advise him, by means we do not believe our enemies can intercept, let alone interpret. My aishid will know the details.” He was not about to say, in front of Tatiseigi, that Lord Geigi, of all people, could look down from the heavens and tell the condition of Tirnamardi’s roof tiles. It was enough that Tatiseigi had Taibeni camped on his grounds.
“We have some concern, aiji-ma, nandiin,” Cenedi said, “about the Kadagidi’s reception of this news—not impossible that they had something to do with it, since a threat to Tirnamardi would call on them, as members of the Padi Valley Association, to come to Tirnamardi’s aid—”
“Never mind they were the last brigands to shell my house!” Tatiseigi said, then, more quietly: “Forgive me, Cenedi-nadi, but our old enemies the Taibeni have earned more Atageini trust in recent years than our Kadagidi cousins, and we have finally written it on paper and put a seal to it. One does not believe the Kadagidi are pleased with that turn of events, and they will not trouble themselves to assist us. Now, if they thought doing away with Komaji would please the aiji and win them a way back to court, well, that I would believe, but again—they cannot simply reach out and assassinate the man! There would have to be a Filing against Komaji, and as irritating as the man had become to most of his neighbors, even his own household, we have not heard of any Filing.”
“That is exactly the question, nandi,” Cenedi said. “We are not surprised lately when, in this contest of wills between the Guild Council and the aiji, the aiji’s bodyguard fails to get notifications—but when the aiji himself does not get advance notice of a Filing being voted on, and of the outcome of that vote? There need to be answers to this death, nandiin, if the answers do not point convincingly to a non-Guild killer.”
Failure to notify a target and those living with him . . . violated the Guild’s charter with the aishidi’tat.
One citizen killing another, without due process? Except in self-defense—in which case one could bring any resource one owned against the attacker—a civilian killing was simple murder, be it someone bypassing the Assassins’ Guild, or an Assassin using his Guild-trained skills to kill without a Filing in effect.
If there was no Filing in Komaji’s case—there might be proof of what had been going on inside the Guild. And, damn, it would be a risk sending anybody up there to investigate. It had happened in the territory of an Ajuri dependent. The likelihood that any Guild action would be covered and any witnesses silenced was—unfortunately—a hundred percent.
Frustrating. A crime, in every sense, and they could not make a move in that direction.
Adding to the frustration, it was entirely possible that the Kadagidi lord, right next door, who might not know who was at Tirnamardi, might well know exactly what had just happened up north of them. Tatiseigi’s suggestion the Kadagidi might assassinate the Ajuri lord if it could get them back into Tabini’s good graces—
It would not have that effect, not an assassination without that vital Filing of Intent.
Was some paper going to turn up to try to make it legal? Did they think Tabini-aiji, whose signature would make it legal, would quietly accept an outright false record, just because there was an advantage to his administration and his household in having Komaji out of the way? He could easily imagine Tabini signing such a document after the fact—for reasons of life, death, and the safety of the aishidi’tat. But not to make allies out of the Kadagidi, not even to patch a vital part of the Padi Valley back into union with its neighbors.
Initially, Tabini had isolated the Kadagidi and forbidden its lord to come to court for security reasons, because it was Murini’s clan, and they were still hunting Murini and his supporters. That ruling had never meant that the Kadagidi townsmen and shopkeepers and country folk were all murderers. Tabini had actually intended to lift the ban . . .
. . . until he’d gotten a dire warning from Cenedi—Bren strongly suspected it had come from Cenedi, or possibly from Algini, who had his own accesses into the problems Murini had left behind.
That . . . was the business they were going to have to deal with in very short order, once they’d gotten Cajeiri’s guests headed safely back to orbit. There was a strong possibility their problems inside the Guild, and particularly in Kadagidi clan, planned to launch another coup—eventually. If Komaji’s moves had put the Shadow Guild into a crisis . . . if they’d feared Tabini or Damiri, having defeated Komaji’s attack, might make a move on Ajuri, might get their hands on him, ask him questions, and then find records that led to the Kadagidi’s doorstep . . .
That was the situation their enemies couldn’t let happen.
