Protector: Foreigner #14, page 32
But they were not meeting them alone. Cenedi had lent them twenty of his own.
Twenty. And two of them. Intimidation: just as his best coat was meant to put two fugitives, just pulled from a tree, at a disadvantage.
Banichi and Jago were waiting for them, down in the foyer, along with that number of the dowager’s guard—so many black uniforms the light in the foyer seemed dimmed and the echoes were dead, overwhelmed in the slight shift of very tall bodies. Bren stepped onto the floor, his aishid moving around him, making space for one pale, shoulder-high human in a towering, black-skinned company. No one spoke. After only a moment of their waiting silence they could hear the sounds of mecheiti in the distance, coming from the north end of the house.
Mecheiti arrived on the drive at a slow pace, walking, with the rhythmic sound of harness and the scrape of blunt claws on the cobbles.
That stopped. There were voices, footsteps ascending. Banichi exchanged a word with someone on com, gave a quiet signal to the men in charge of the doors. The whole foyer whispered with the shift of bodies, the movement of weapons.
One door opened; the other was pinned fast, and the night wind came in, a breath of chill. The porch light showed a number of Taibeni, in their green and brown, the only district where the Assassins’ Guild did not go in black. In their midst, came two windblown strangers in Guild black—not restrained, but surely disarmed. They came in, and their eyes made a fast search of the reception—a little surprised, perhaps, at so many weapons.
Then they saw Bren, and Bren saw instant focus—awareness, emotion of some sort. Nerves twitched, his aishid was already on high alert, and he heard one simultaneous rattle of weapons around the foyer.
One of the prisoners dropped to one knee. The other did, like some scene out of a machimi play—and Bren just stood there, jolted into an improbable frame of reference.
“Nand’ paidhi,” one said to him, showing both hands empty, “do not put it out to the Guild that we are still alive. Hear us out.”
“Nadiin-ji,” Bren said—not to them, but to his own aishid. He had no idea what had and had not gone out to the Guild system.
“We have reported nothing as yet,” Algini muttered, at Bren’s shoulder, and Bren stood there, aware of his aishid, of the protection around him. And the intent in front of him didn’t read as a threat—but as strange an approach as he had ever seen. Nobody knelt. Not even to Tabini.
“My name is Momichi,” the first man said in a hoarse and thready voice. “My partner is Homuri. The ones who gave us our orders take theirs from a man named Pajeini.”
“We know that name,” Banichi said, and there was nothing of warmth about it. “Is he still in the Dojisigin Marid?”
“Yes. Probably he is. Nand’ paidhi, they have our whole village hostage. If a report goes out, if they learn we failed—and talked—they will kill everyone, without exception. You spoke for the Taisigi. Speak for us. For our village. For Reijisan. The aiji dowager can move Guild on orders Shejidan cannot track. If anyone can help us—she can. If you could persuade her—”
“What was your mission?” Jago asked sharply, and with a nod to Bren, but likely no shift of her eyes off the two on their knees: “Forgive me, nandi, but there is a great deal of information missing in this business. They come here by stealth, lie in wait, inconvenience the aiji-dowager, all to ask your help? We believe the paidhi-aiji would like to hear your reasoning!”
“Our target was not the paidhi. Nor the aiji dowager. Lord Tatiseigi was our objective.”
“Why?” Bren asked.
“We do not know, nand’ paidhi. We can guess . . .”
“Who helped you?” Algini interrupted him, wanting specifics, facts and names. “What was your route?”
“From our village by boat,” Momichi said, “to Lusini on the Senji coast, to the railhead at Kopurna . . .” He looked at Algini, as if judging if that was the answer Algini wanted. And kept going. “To the station at Brosin Ana . . .”
Brosin Ana was the last stop in the Senjin district. It was the old rail line, a route up from the Marid, through the mountains, and the territory of several small associations, finally joining the new line north and east of the capital. Trains from Senji had carried commerce and contraband for two hundred years.
And that line ended in the Kadagidi township, where Marid commerce had always come in, an old, often problematic association that had not been happy, one suspected, to see Tabini back in power, certainly not happy to see the southern Marid talk about its own rail link.
His doing, that talk about a new line—a realization in two heartbeats of stretched time. That the northern Marid wasn’t happy with him—he perfectly well understood.
“To the Kadagidi township,” Momichi said. “We were met, given specific instructions for our mission, and we walked in.”
“Walked in,” Algini said. “From the Kadagidi township.”
A hesitation. But geography made it obvious. “From the Kadagidi estate, nadi.”
“When?”
That was the question, Bren thought. How? ran right beside it.
“Five days ago. We were directed simply to get into the garage, substitute ourselves for the garage staff—and wait until Lord Tatiseigi arrived at the train station and called for his car.”
“Give us the detail,” Algini said. “How were you to accomplish this?”
“It was all laid out. We were to come onto the grounds by the back gate, keep well to the north hedge until we had passed the stables. We were to find an iron plate under the vines, in the corner near the arbor, and that would get us to the water system—we should work behind the pump housing, and follow the pipe to an access.”
“Which access?” Banichi asked. “Where?”
“Beside the hot water tank.”
“Go on,” Banichi said.
“We were to deal with the staff,” Momichi said. “We did not want to kill any of the staff. We were prepared to keep the garage crew drugged and confined. But when we got in—there was no one there. So we thought—they are on leave; they will come back when their lord advises them he is coming. We just need to wait. Our information said the garage staff used its own kitchen, rarely mixed with the rest of the staff—that it was very likely no one would come to the garage at all, except the garage staff when they came back. That was the plan. But there was no one there. We never used the lights. We never used the stove. We just waited.” Momichi drew breath. “Then two days on, the house began to stir. And grew busy, as if there was something going on. We caught some voices, and we began to realize there was a great deal of construction going on in the house and on the roof. We went out through the trap, onto the garage roof, that night, and we saw a patrol, Taibeni, on mecheiti, on the front grounds; we saw a glow against the hedges, lights moving. We had no idea what to think—whether Taibeni had occupied the Atageini lord’s estate, or whether they were preparing an ambush— We stayed very quiet. We thought, if they kill Lord Tatiseigi, the garage staff may not come back. But everything had changed. We decided to stay to find out what was going on—but then we began to realize it was more than Taibeni, that there were other Guild about. And nothing made sense. We thought—we might take the car, claim we were on some errand, and drive out the gate—granted the Taibeni would not know the regular staff. But we decided we might still accomplish what we were sent to do; and even if we failed at that—if we could find out what was going on at Tirnamardi, we might be able to trade that information to the rebels.
“Then we realized Lord Tatiseigi had come home without calling for his car—that the aiji-dowager was in the house. That was the point at which we decided we were in something so far beyond our understanding—it could bring the whole north and East down on the Marid. We thought—we even thought of simply calling on the house phone and reporting ourselves. But we thought—the rebels would get the news. So we opened the same access and tried to leave. Going straight forward, we immediately set off an alarm on the premises. We had used up our only defense against the mecheiti—to keep them from finding the access. We decided to make a second try, but we knew we would never make it on foot if another alarm sounded and the mecheiti were let loose. We thought of taking the car—but doubted we could ram the gate. We thought then—if not afoot—then we might use the mecheiti native to the grounds. If we could bridle two of the leaders while they were settled for the night, we could loose the herd, ride for the east gate and hope the mecheiti would create enough confusion with the Taibeni riders for us to get through the gate. Well, it was a foolhardy idea.” Momichi sighed and shook his head. “We no more than opened the door when some night creature bolted across the rails setting up a racket, the mecheiti all rose up in a panic—and a shot went off. At that point—we ran. We just ran.”
Boji, Bren thought. Boji. Of all damnable things.
“We expected,” Momichi said, “the Atageini would immediately loose the herd on us. We headed for the trees. We made it a distance into the woods, and since we had not had the Atageini herd behind us—we were expecting the Taibeni riders. They cut us off. We climbed for it. We had our rifles. They had theirs. We shouted back and forth a while. We exchanged views—they were upset about the black powder. We granted their point. And we knew the danger should the report about us get out to the south—we told them about that. They said that we could present our case to the aiji-dowager and Lord Tatiseigi, and you, but that they had no sympathy. So we said—if we could talk to you, nandi, we would surrender. And we did.”
If there was bad luck to be had, Bren thought, these two had found it at every turn—bad luck their security had arranged, true. But bad luck that had come full about. These two had come back alive.
And, damn, the expressions looked sincere. They were exhausted, they had spent days in a situation progressively going to hell, and their story made sense, step by miserable next step, so that he was almost inclined to believe them. They’d had rifles. They’d had a chance to use them. They said they’d come for one target, only one—strictly regulation, give or take the lack of a Filing. They had not harmed anybody on staff. At the end, they hadn’t shot it out with the Taibeni or aimed at the mecheiti—which had probably persuaded the Taibeni to stand back and talk them down.
He hoped his aishid could figure them out: he looked at Algini, and at Jago, who gave no offender any grace.
“You posed us quite a difficulty,” Algini said to the pair in an easier tone. “You are not village-level.”
“No, nadi.” No hesitation in that answer. A little return of spirit.
“Where assigned?”
“We served in Amarja, nadi,” Momichi said. “In the citadel.”
“In whose man’chi?” Algini asked.
“In the aiji’s,” came the curt answer. “But not this aiji.”
This lord of Dojisigi clan, and aiji of a quarter of the Marid at the moment, was a fifteen-year-old spoiled brat of a girl, who had once expected to marry Tatiseigi’s nephew. She was twice lucky—first that the nephew had been packed off to the East, and second, that she was alive, and thus far getting her own way, where it regarded personal comforts and the illusion that she was in charge of the district.
But was young Tiajo likely to remain in office another year? Bets inside and outside the Marid ran counter to that. She was lord only because she was next in line, though under house arrest. She might have been a convenient rallying-point for the remnant of the Shadow Guild, but evidently even they had found her more liability than asset.
“Does your partner have a voice?” Banichi asked.
“Nadi,” Homuri said. “Yes.”
“Why were you in your village?”
“We were dismissed from the citadel,” Homuri said, “when the Shejidani Guild took over. We were told, all of us, to go separately back to our home districts, our own villages, and maintain order. We went to Reijisan. We both came from there. Our partners went another direction. To Meitja.”
“And with your skills, you could not protect this village?”
“Nadi,” Homuri said, “we could not. They took our weapons.”
“Who took them?”
“The Shejidani Guild. They confiscated all our weapons, all our equipment. When they sent us out, we went afoot, with nothing, nadi, from the point the truck dropped us, a day’s walk from our village. We had no communications, no weapons, no equipment, not even a canteen or a folding knife.”
“In the night,” Momichi said, “when the rebels drove this truck into the center of the village—we were called out. They said in the hearing of the whole village that it was full of explosives, and that if we did not come meet with them, they would set it off. So we did. They gave us their proposition, that we undertake an easy, limited mission, one man, and when they had news Lord Tatiseigi was dead—they would leave the village and we would never see them again.”
“Did you believe that?” Algini asked.
A hesitation. “No,” Momichi said. “But we still have to believe it.”
That, Bren thought, had the sound of a man who had actually made that decision.
“Where is your man’chi?” Bren asked them outright.
“To our village, now, nandi,” Momichi said.
“And to which Guild?” Algini asked shortly.
That brought silence, a careful consideration, and for the first time, Bren thought, they were going to hedge on the answer.
“Not to the rebels, nadi,” Momichi said.
There had to be an attachment, Bren thought. Man’chi had to go somewhere, it always was somewhere, or there were dire psychological consequences.
“Where?” Bren asked again, and drew their attention back. “If you want my help—start with the truth.”
“We are Amarja Guild. We are not these new people. We are not these people who take hostages and threaten villages. We are not the Shejidani Guild, dispersing us, confiscating our equipment, and leaving the countryside open to our enemies.”
“You followed the old rules,” Algini said.
“We are Guild, the same as you, nadi. This was a mission we were given—and we would do it honorably. We would observe the mission limits. Honorably. We have no personal grudge against Lord Tatiseigi, but if he died, it would throw everything in the north into chaos, and the Shejidani Guild holding Amarja might even be pulled back. We thought that might be their plan. But if that happened, we might come back, too: we had had our assignments, under the old lord—if the rebel northerners set Tiajo free, we might take up guard in the citadel again. But they lied to us about the mission. Or they had no idea what was going on up there. We found ourselves in deeper and deeper trouble, and a situation the meaning of which we did not know, except that it involved the aiji-dowager and the heir and humans—which could bring down the powers in the heavens into it all. So we decided to abort the mission and get out.”
“Where were you going?” Tano asked.
“As far as we could. Home, if we could get there. Out of that place, in the open air, if that was all we could get. We had no hope of reaching the aiji-dowager. We feared we were set up to bring war down on the Marid. The Taibeni ran us down. But when they said the paidhi-aiji was here—nandi, you spoke for the Marid. So we agreed to surrender, if we could talk to you. We ask—we ask you go to the aiji-dowager and tell her what is happening in the Marid.”
“Go on,” Bren said.
“We ask you, nandi, first report our deep apology to Lord Tatiseigi, and to the aiji-dowager, and tell her—tell her in the first place, we did not do this willingly, we know there was no Filing, and we are guilty of that. But, nandi, we need protection. The Shejidani Guild is in Amarja, safe and secure; but those of us out in the villages, nandi, we are down to hunting rifles we borrow from our neighbors, and if a truck full of explosives drives into a village center, even if we had our communications units—what chance the Shejidani Guild would come running on our word, and what chance the village could escape reprisals? This is doing her associations no good either. We ask you to ask the aiji-dowager to do something—to tell someone with associations in the Marid that the Dojisigi countryside is in trouble, and that we and our Guild are helpless to do anything.”
Silence followed that.
Bren looked at Algini, at Banichi, at Tano and Jago.
Claims. But no proof—except the presence of a very good Dojisigi unit and detail on a mission they had apparently aborted—with no collateral damage.
Finessed, as the traditional Guild said. An operation carried out within the law—give or take the critical matter of a Filing.
The dowager, intervene? The dowager’s action in the Marid had shifted over to diplomatic and legislative efforts, to advance Machigi, not the Dojisigi’s favorite Marid lord, to take power over the whole Marid. Tabini had agreed to that solution, not because anybody considered Machigi the perfect answer, but because the alternative was another round of assassinations and wars that would let the Shadow Guild rebuild in the south.
Precisely what was starting to happen in the Dojisigin Marid—with a Guild force sitting in the Dojisigin capital.
“Cenedi has just heard all this,” Banichi said quietly. One was far from surprised Cenedi had been listening in. “He wants to talk to them.”
“Nadiin,” Bren said to the two, aloud. “Get up. I shall present your case upstairs. You will be talking to the dowager’s Guild senior. One urges you be very forthcoming with him—including your situation in the Marid. He will hear you. He will inform the dowager. I make no promises. But I shall see she knows.”
“Nandi.” The Dojisigi got to their feet. They bowed, as deeply as Guild ever bowed, bowed courteously to his aishid, too, and Banichi directed the two into the keeping of Cenedi’s men.
Bren set his hand on the banister and started up the stairs. But he stopped on the bottom step, and asked, “Am I a fool, nadiin-ji?”
“They are a high-ranking unit,” Banichi said. “The Dojisigi lord was very deeply betrayed by the Shadow Guild; and killed by our forces. A conflicted man’chi? We have no way to know. The order to dismiss the local Guild from the citadel and confiscate equipment makes sense. But the occupying Guild has no force adequate to handle all that territory. We have to ask—does Dojisigi Guild already in outlying districts still have their equipment, or what happened to that? And if they ordered these units out of the capital—knowing the Shadow Guild was still operating out there—why did they not return their equipment? A confused clerk? A misfiled order? Or did that clerk come through Assignments? But if that happened, and if the situation in Dojisigi is unraveling, there is nothing quiet we can do right now. We are going to question these two in greater depth. And advise the dowager. We can at least do that. What they may or may not know, Bren-ji—she has accesses as well as associations in the Marid. Whether she will use them—she will decide that.”
