Defiance, page 3
It did not help that even his wardrobe had turned out misinformed, wool and warmth, while now they were in the more temperate south—it was too warm, with atevi body heat in the car. And in discomfort and distress, he played solitaire on the computer that he had brought for far more serious business, none of which he could do without information.
He was tired of solitaire. The only books he had brought on this trip were references on Hasjuran, the mountaintop province that should have been their destination. He got up, gathered it up, opened it, looked at the text disconsolately, shut it, put it back on the shelf, and sat down again, despairing of sleep or diversion.
Narani, dutifully, bravely awake, refreshed the tea.
“Go to sleep, Rani-ji. You absolutely should not stay awake to tend my insomnia. Get some rest.”
“Is there anything I can bring you, nandi?”
“An entertainment. A solution to the Reunioners. A message from the dowager. A timetable for our arrival. Any of those. My books are worthless. But the tea is welcome. One of the little cakes.” Bindanda had brought some in, earlier—Bindanda was Bren’s staff, a chef, who had chosen not to be simply a passenger: he lent a hand in the galley, and provided far better than field rations to the Guild traveling with them.
Narani brought the dessert on a little saucer, with a napkin. And laid beside it two little books, one a worn leather volume entitled The Dual Regencies of Ilisidi of Malguri, Her Acts and Proposals on the Southern Coasts. Bren lifted it. The second appeared to be a companion volume, Alliance and Betrayal: The Dual Regencies of Ilisidi of Malguri, Her Acts and Proposals in the Midlands.
God, how had he missed those in his library?
“I cannot provide a letter from the dowager,” Narani said, “but I have these—a little overdue at the library, I fear. I did not know I would be taking them into a Guild action.”
The Bujavid library, on the first floor. An amazing collection. He had never come across these two.
“I think they will forgive us if we ask them nicely,” Bren said. Narani had been marking places with thinnest tissue, neatly cut little strips. “I shall not lose your markers, Rani-ji. I shall be very careful.”
“You are very welcome, nandi. I shall leave the pot.” Narani bowed, obviously pleased, and moved back into the shadows as Bren randomly sampled the first of the books. In scholarly detail, in scholarly fashion, indexed, its bulk increased with a great number of tissue strips, it zigged and zagged into what-ifs and personalities of the era, in an elaborate typeface that would not be hurried. It would have daunted him, earlier in his career. He read the old type like a veteran now.
Ashidama Bay is the largest natural harbor of the Great Continent. Jorida, the substantial island in the middle of the bay, has held power over it, both political and financial, from primitive times . . .
A second bookmark: The Masters of Jorida, who claim to have records predating the Great Wave, aver that Ashidama Bay was once a trading center for the Great Southern Isle, and say that it alone, of all the major Southern Isle settlements, survived the cataclysm intact.
Well, indeed, the Great Wave was as far back as any coherent atevi records tended to go.
He settled with the first book and followed the bookmarks.
The Ojiri clan . . . had ties to the northern Marid. So the trade that flowed from the Dojisigin to Jorida was not just a recent relationship.
There were three cities in Ashidama: Jorida itself. Separti, which backed up on the shore of Lord Geigi’s land, on Kajiminda Peninsula—Geigi’s estate traded with Separti, a convenient drive through the woods. And there was Talidi, also on that shore, down near the tip of Kajiminda. In fact, though Separti and Talidi both sat on Kajiminda land, they acknowledged the Master of Jorida as their lord—so to speak. Master was the title he held.
Bren knew that much. Geigi had gotten along with minimal trouble with Separti—in the days when Geigi had lived on the estate.
But once and long ago the Ojiri had pretty well dominated the whole west coast. The aishidi’tat, largely a Ragi association north of the mountains in those days, concerned itself mostly with the north. Then humans entered the world and the War of the Landing happened.
The human landing site was on Mospheira, not originally in numbers or that fearsome. Then more arrived. And began to deal with the mainland. War resulted. The Ragi atevi established lordships and provinces in the south as part of their defense, bolstering Maschi clan, a powerful south central clan, as a power on the middle peninsula, Kajidama—the Ojiri at that time traded only with the Marid and were not involved.
The humans, better armed, but fighting among themselves, lost the war.
Mospheira was cleared of atevi, and humans would be left in peace so long as they stayed to their island, an arrangement which required that a place on the mainland be found for the atevi inhabitants of Mospheira: the Tribal Peoples, two clans who had been at war with each other and with the Ragi atevi throughout the conflict. So one people, the Gan, were settled near Dur, in the north, the other, the Edi, were settled in the south, on the rocky shore of Najidama. To appease the Maschi for the loss of Najidama, a new lordship was created and a Farai lord, kin to the Maschi lord, built Najida estate to watch over the Edi, who had had a long-term quarrel with the Ojiri, who used to raid Mospheira in the long ago.
The Farai fell out of favor in Tabini’s time, and, far from fearing a human invasion these days, Tabini-aiji appointed one Bren Cameron as lord of Najida.
Even in his role as Lord of Najida, Bren had scarcely heard Jorida mentioned, except as a market that Kajiminda used but Najida did not, and as the offended party whose trading ships, on their way to the northern port of Cobo, had mysteriously gone aground off Edi shores.
These days, with Geigi no longer in residence at Kajiminda, Najida tried to keep the market road open to Ashidama, with precious little reciprocal help from the Townships of the Ashidama coast. Goods did come and go, so it had been moderately profitable to keep the route open, at least seasonally. It had been a principle, with Geigi, so long as he lived at Kajiminda, to maintain it year-round clear down to Ashidama. Bren, in charge of the road work and employing Edi, did not want Edi workmen operating that close to Jorida—given the history.
The Taisigin had utilized Jorida’s shipping services.
The book was . . . he checked the date . . . twenty-three years old. Before Machigi took over the Taisigin. Before Machigi’s father was killed by the Shadow Guild.
Machigi had broken Taisigin ties to Jorida and sent his own ships to Cobo to trade with the aishidi’tat.
Little wonder Machigi wanted that rail link.
Machigi had warned them, at Koperna, about the Shadow Guild’s links to Jorida, using terms like black market and artifacts, and with allusions to the near-sacred and forbidden Southern Continent. Machigi had placed the blame for funding of the Shadow Guild directly onto the too-rich collectors in the aishidi’tat itself, with Jorida as the even richer enabler.
God . . . what a tangled mess.
Thump-thump. Thump—Bump!
Bren, steadying his cup, thought suddenly about the state of the rail they had been passing over for days now in terms other than aching joints. It was passable . . . freight moved on it, between the Marid and the aishidi’tat, but one wondered, with one’s newly increased understanding of Jorida, just how much freight in recent years. The Dojisigin had let its own connecting spur fall into utter ruin.
Now Machigi wanted a rail line to connect to this one—and this one was due for repair. A lot of repair.
Better rail, more trains.
Jorida was not going to welcome the news of the collapse of the Dojisigin, and would not welcome a conference of Bregani, Machigi, and the dowager, even if that Dojisigin ship had left too early to know all of it.
And the Farai . . . Oh, yes. Farai clan would be right there, with Bregani.
He had had no good opinion of that clan, personally, and his path kept crossing them. Before his time, they had promoted themselves right up to the third floor of the Bujavid, had used to own the apartment that now was his, right next to Tabini’s, and had enjoyed all manner of privilege—in the reign of Valasi II. And, indeed, the Farai had been the first lords of Najida—in fact almost everything he owned and touched on the mainland had been a Farai property, before the Farai had pushed Tabini too far and one Bren Cameron, human though he was, had ended up a titled lord of the aishidi’tat with a great many unasked-for side benefits . . . and one wished one could be entirely sure Tabini had done that for better reasons than to outrage the Farai, insulting them with a human presence.
Certainly the Edi people and Lord Geigi had never had a good word to say about the Farai—Lord Geigi being the sort of fellow who could find some virtue in just about everybody.
Though he knew one Farai he found pleasant—Lord Bregani’s wife, a brave lady; and their half-Farai daughter, Husai, who in a certain naivete, combined with Farai brashness, seemed to have set her sails for that other passenger on this train: young Nomari, ex-railway worker, potentially the new lord of Ajuri—whose appointment awaited Tabini’s approval, largely dependent on this trip. Nomari had been hauled into this often chilly, sometimes life-threatening mission apparently because Ilisidi, with a short time before Nomari’s appointment became a public issue, wanted to see what sort of lad he was.
Nomari traveled in isolation in his car, with four bodyguards and a single servant—all the dowager’s appointees—all of whom doubtless carried reports to Cenedi, though nothing contained in those reports had come in Bren’s direction. Nomari had politely declined all attempts to dine with him. Perhaps it was shyness, but it could as easily be uneasiness about questions from him that might turn up differences from his answers to Ilisidi. Or it could just be that having grown up in the Marid, an intimate supper with a human was just, well, too much for him. He was reportedly eating with the four of the dowager’s young men assigned to guard him, quite an informal arrangement, indicative of much greater familiarity than a Guild unit on guard duty ordinarily permitted, but quite typical of an aishid . . . which they could become.
Not a bad thing, in Bren’s mind, considering the damage Nomari’s disappearance in Koperna had had on his relationship with those four.
If they were sorting things out, if Nomari’s assigned bodyguard was sending good reports to Ilisidi, it might well affect her endorsement of him, which would, yes, be a good thing in his opinion.
“You favor him.”
Her comment on Nomari that last morning, following his brief explanation of the previous night’s events.
“He has not lost my good opinion.”
“You approve what he did.”
“He saved her.”
Ilisidi had responded with her enigmatic smile and an equally enigmatic: “He shows us obfuscation. Illusion. Modesty, when it serves. The innocence of a child. He charms us all. Even you, paidhi.”
Had Nomari charmed her? Only if she allowed it.
Nomari’s life was still at issue—at least the sort of life he might lead. His becoming lord of Ajuri was far from a given. Failing that, he might insert himself in Lord Bregani’s household tomorrow, given the looks Bregani’s daughter cast him, but, God—Nomari and Husai? Another Farai romance, another Farai marrying her way into potent associations?
That was not going to happen.
Back to Machigi’s court? Possibly. He appeared more comfortable with Machigi than any northerner ought to be.
But if Tabini approved him, what Nomari was destined to do was to take over one of the most rotten and corrupt clans extant and bring them back to respectability. Ajuri had been the seedbed of the Shadow Guild, and its lords did not tend to die peacefully abed.
Possibly more importantly, Nomari apparently had his own clan’s backing. Ajuri refugees had gathered around him and appealed en masse to his neighbor, Lord Tatiseigi of Atageini clan, to support him: he was what they wanted, and, ultimately, Tatiseigi had decided to back him, as strong an endorsement as he could get, Ajuri being the immediate neighbor to that most powerful lord in the Midlands.
Redeem the clan in Tabini’s eyes? Maybe. Eventually.
Bring the Farai back into northern politics?
A cold day in hell. He opposed that. Husai was charming; he did not know her relatives.
He drained his cup, poured a new one, and returned to his book:
—This grant of a lordship on Kajidama both strengthened the Maschi clan, with now two seats of power—and incidentally deprived Talidi Township of the source of their timber, vital to their ship maintenance, a source which they had taken as naturally theirs, as close at hand.
This of course greatly vexed the Master of Jorida—who now had to negotiate with three lords of the aishidi’tat for trade in timber, grain, and fish. It is commonly held that only the fact that both Kajidama and Najidama harbors are rocky and problematic for ships of large draft kept the Ojiri from launching war against the Edi from the sea.
Well, that was an interesting observation. And at least partially true. His own yacht had no trouble, but it did get rather shallow under her keel as she came into dock, and there were places one had to stand well off the shore.
But would the Ojiri, who had based their entire trade reputation on lucrative neutrality, truly have risked setting off the Maschi of Targai just for a bit of timber? Somehow, he doubted it.
The tea was cold. He got up, drew more hot water from the samovar, spooned more tea into the strainer . . . Narani, blessed man, had fallen quite asleep in the chair by the wardrobe, and Jeladi had done the same on the other side of the doorway. He added sugar, a practice that lifted brows among atevi. Added two spoonfuls. He was not sleeping, but bodily energy was at an ebb.
And he was just getting to the part he really wanted to know.
He sipped the new cup. And reopened the book.
2
The Unexpected Rise of Ilisidi of Malguri
In his seventh year as aiji in Shejidan, Valasi I sought a contract marriage, but reports brought him word of a more strategic match that could gain him access to the wealth of iron and timber beyond the Continental Divide . . .
Namely Ilisidi. The railroad again. Always the railroad, which had begun to shape the aishidi’tat shortly before humans had appeared in the atevi heavens. There were no highways on the continent, just market roads, few of them even paved. It was all railways that united regions—it was the first railroad that had created the aishidi’tat.
Railroads, trains and rails alike, were resource-hungry, in particular, for iron and timber, which were indeed abundant in the East, and increasingly hard come by in the west. Big timber had been disappearing, except in the land of the Taibeni clan, which would not surrender their trees to the axe. Two small wars and an assassination proved that.
Which had led, indirectly, to Tabini. Ilisidi’s son, Valasi II, had taken a Taibeni wife to mend those tensions. But that was far ahead of the text.
Ilisidi, Lord of Malguri, received the proposal from Valasi I, but insisted on marriage by her custom, namely a permanent, not a contract marriage. This reduced the influence and the conflict of the larger clans, and reduced the likelihood of conflict among potential heirs. She had no desire, she was reported to have said, to spend her life breeding heirs for others, and indeed, Valasi’s heir, Valasi II, was her only offspring, leaving the future control of her own region of Malguri in question.
Control of Malguri, in the East, after Ilisidi, was still a concern. Ilisidi, being no fool, had to have considered the problem, but if she had declared an heir, he certainly had never heard about it.
As for Malguri, lying far across the Continental Divide, it had been little involved with the Ragi atevi of the aishidi’tat, and thus brought no troublesome ties into a permanent marriage. Regarding her own reason for accepting the marriage, she is said to have used the martial strength of Shejidan to reinforce her rule over the East, which, by the terms of the marriage contract, she holds to this day as independent of the aishidi’tat, including the rights to declare war, choose her own succession, and install an heir without the approval of the aishidi’tat.
Without approval? Curious. He had never heard that. Was the writer correct? He made a note to delve into the question: best not to wait for it to become an emergency.
Thus through correspondence and emissaries, the marriage was arranged.
Another bookmark . . .
There is a story that Ilisidi so hated the journey across the Continental Divide that she insisted on extending the rail across the Divide to her province. This may be legend. What is true is that the eastern rail project carried on during her marriage to Valasi I and into her regency for her son, Valasi II.
Conquering the divide had been truly epic, but personally, he doubted that Ilisidi’s comfort had been a major reason for the cross-continental rail. If she was going to leave Malguri but still rule there in absentia, she would need the means to get back and forth quickly. If she was using the western Assassins’ Guild to stabilize the East, fast response and culturally aware response would be mandatory. Even before the marriage, she had established her own branch of the Assassins and of the Transportation Guild in Malguri, some of whom she had brought with her to Shejidan. To this day, there was Cenedi, who attained high rank inside the original Guild once she became regent. There were others, all trained in Malguri, all acknowledged by the aishidi’tat’s Guild, who maintained the peace there now. But while she was unifying the East, the rail link would have allowed the newly formed Eastern Guild to reinforce Ilisidi’s guard with her own people.
And if raw materials for the western railroad were Valasi I’s reason for the marriage, getting those massive loads across the divide rapidly and economically would be a necessity, not a whim. The railroad had had to cross the divide.
For her. For the one who controlled the source of it all.
