Defiance, page 7
No. That was absolutely excessive. Tabini would never keep him ignorant. And Cenedi could be a damned pain—especially under her orders. She had to be in charge . . . which was why they were getting nothing from Cenedi.
Which brought him right back to why? Was she just generally set on her way and consulting no one, avoiding any and all interference with her intentions? Or was he being shut out because he had failed in—whatever she thought he should have done?
In Koperna, he had had his orders from her. She had sent him to Bregani’s home to represent those orders, allowing her to stay in the relative safety of the train—with all her aishid. And under his administration of the situation, Bregani’s daughter Husai had been kidnapped, Nomari had eluded his guard and disappeared—to turn up later—and they had made a deal with a scoundrel. It had all worked out eventually, but the cap on it all, none of his fault, had been Tiajo’s escape from Amarja, capital of the Dojisigin, accomplished before they had even left Hasjuran . . . so she could not blame him for that. But might she have sent one of her two naval ships after that fugitive ship . . . had her grandson not stolen one of the warships she had stolen from him and moved it out of Koperna harbor to block the Dojisigin port? Both ships were thus engaged: neither was available to pursue Tiajo, Tabini having decided to take on the Dojisigin while she dealt with Senjin.
But did she remotely think the paidhi-aiji had had any part in Tabini’s move?
Did she believe he had known from the start that Tabini would send a train full of Guild speeding past them in Hasjuran, or that Geigi would send down that lander, complete with a new, secure communication system—which allowed Tabini to order things from the convenience of his office in Shejidan, and take over her operation?
He had not expected any of it. Nobody had warned him of any of these things. None of them were his doing. And it was not his fault that Tabini’s force was currently pummeling the hell of out whatever supporters of the Shadow Guild could still be found in the northern Marid—while the core of the problem spread to the west coast.
Tabini was finishing Ilisidi’s war for her, outright taking over her operation as well as one of her ships . . . and she had pulled out of Koperna before the gunfire had even died away.
Not running from the fight, never Ilisidi.
Going after that escaped ship, he had no question, the train being what she had for pursuit.
And shutting out the paidhi-aiji ever since. Not receiving him. Not listening to him. Not trusting him with her plans, even knowing, knowing, damn it, how much those plans would affect his responsibilities at Najida—
And that might be the point, might it not? He was not atevi, might not have the overwhelming, gut-deep drive to protect his own. She did.
More of that gut-deep emotion, that primal drive, than she admitted to.
As he—gut-deep—came at the same conclusion by a different route, with different wiring, different imperatives. Did she think he would fail to—
Care in its diverse senses did not even translate well into Ragi. Trying to equate what she felt with what he felt stepped right off the logic of it all into that vast gulf between what was atevi and what was human.
She was going to do something. Days of dogged movement across a long, badly maintained rail said that if she was still in command, she was either mad at Tabini or set on pursuit—or both.
She just did not want him making calls to Tabini. That had been clear. Could she—thunderbolt of a convoluted thought—possibly think that he had had one of those new communication units all along and was still using it?
It was possible, as she might see it, that Tabini had handed him one of those units before he left Shejidan. He had understood Cenedi had gotten them from Tabini’s force, when the train stopped to watch the landing . . . but that did not preclude Tabini having given him one earlier, before he ever boarded in Shejidan.
Certainly the operational shift onto the new network all had been pre-planned, somewhere, dependent on Geigi getting a lander down to do that job. But he had not been in on that planning, not in the least. He had been one of the least knowledgeable individuals in the whole operation, with the possible exception of Nomari and Bregani. . . .
But in her reckoning, it could be. He could have such a unit. Cenedi had not gone so far as to order a search of his premises. She had stopped short of that.
And if he had such a unit, he could have known things about Tabini’s operation, being in Tabini’s confidence, that even Cenedi might not know.
God. It was ridiculous. If she truly believed that he would deceive her, after all this time . . .
But no. If she believed he and his aishid had crossed her, he would not be standing here a free man.
Perhaps she was supposed to have stayed up in Hasjuran. Perhaps she was not supposed to have taken the Red Train, with all its equipment, down that horrendous grade. Tabini had certainly not been ignorant that two-thirds of his naval force supposed to be in the Strait, official barrier between human Mospheira and the atevi mainland, was headed instead for the Marid.
Perhaps she was not supposed to have made the move on Bregani, turning him from adversary to ally.
If one removed Bregani and Koperna from the operation, the lander could have come down, the new communications system could have gone into operation, leaving her informed, but safe, in Hasjuran . . . to simply reverse the Red Train and go tamely, safely back to Shejidan, her part in the operation done.
But before they had ever left Shejidan, she—he was fairly sure it was she—had sent a well-equipped force to Koperna, ready to attack or aid Bregani, in the guise of a train needing service.
She had directed the two warships south. Tabini had let that happen, possibly because Tabini had decided he was going to use them. Tabini could not have missed that move.
He took a deep breath. He was letting his imagination run wild. It could drive one just a little crazy trying to track the chess game those two played every day of their lives.
They were coming in at Najida, that was all. The whole mad operation at Koperna was over. The train was going to stop. Things were going to sort out. She would give orders—there was no chance anyone else was going to. They could get ahead of—whatever was going on down in Ashidama Bay. Ilisidi and Tabini were both wrought. That had happened before. There would be time to work it all out.
Another deep breath . . . a deliberate sip of the sugared tea.
He had dressed as far as his shirt and trousers and an older pair of boots. The coat could wait until they were ready to leave the train—he was reasonably confident they would leave the train, though there might be—he hoped there would be—a simultaneous offloading of equipment for the entire Guild force. Tents. Field pieces. Ammunition. It all might be setting up by the time Cenedi used some roundabout means to contact Ramaso, perhaps asking Tabini’s office to make the call, if they wanted to maintain themselves opaque to observers—and settle them comfortably at his own estate. Thick, wonderful mattresses. Floors that did not shake.
No, it was going to go as it had to go, things would finally make sense, and he was relatively sure he would not escape the bulletproof vest on this short trip: indeed, yes, there it was, hanging with the coat. Considering the general situation, and all the other pieces milling about in confusion, he did not plan to complain about it.
Hopefully he could talk Ilisidi into more than an infelicity of two days’ stay and allow everyone to get some real rest. Take time to brief Ramaso about the potential trouble south of them, and possibly, if they could gain a few extra days, set up a situation that let him be free to answer Geigi’s needs. Granted Geigi would be needing him to be up at the spaceport; it was a straight run up to Cobo and a shorter one to the spaceport, actually closer from Najida than from Shejidan. There was that in favor of his being here.
Hopefully, too, Ilisidi would be content just to keep Tiajo contained in Ashidama until the mess to the east was mopped up and the saner heads who accompanied Tiajo had time clearly to contemplate their future, and their best options. He had far rather negotiate the Shadow Guild out of Jorida than try to remove them by force. Deals could be made—amnesties, untidy as that would be, granted the damage they had done—mercy not for the Shadow Guild’s sake, but for the sake of innocents in the way of future action. It was very much the Shadow Guild technique—hostage-taking. Living shields. And moves that generated terror and disruption.
Mercy put the legitimate Assassins’ Guild at a disadvantage in dealing with them. But given the situation—the Shadow Guild might rather live than be hunted down.
He could put it to them that way. He would enjoy putting it to them that way.
“The bus is coming,” Algini said, drawing everyone’s attention. Algini’s earpiece had evidently found some confirmation on the ops feed. They had been getting nothing from Cenedi. “The market truck is also coming.”
Bren paused with teacup in hand, so long that Narani began to hover by, anxious to take it before he outright spilled it. He surrendered the cup and stood up.
“Well,” he said, about to say that he was relieved.
Thunder boomed right overhead. Nerves assaulted by the explosion up in Hasjuran—twitched.
“Personnel will board the bus,” Algini continued, unperturbed. “The truck will be a little late. It was on the far south side of the peninsula.”
On Kajiminda Bay, that was to say, ferrying supply, perfectly ordinary activity. The Edi were building on the end of Kajidama, and moving material over from Najida: Lord Geigi had granted the Edi more land on Kajiminda, and the market truck, as well as the earthmover and Bren’s yacht, were frequently in service to their needs. The ordinary reality of Najida asserted itself, a balm to frayed nerves.
A second thunderclap.
“Dare one guess it is raining?” Bren asked, in dour levity.
Jago cast a glance up at their tiny patch of sky, midway across the car. “Pouring,” she said, and more cheerfully: “But not snowing.”
It never did, on the Southwest Coast. It might be chill, but it would never be snowing. In Hasjuran they had been up to their knees in it.
“Will the dowager disembark?” he asked. “Do we have word on that?”
“She will,” Banichi said. “We shall go in the first lot, with Cenedi’s unit. We will move all principals in the first run, some staff in a second.”
So, not a wholesale dumping of rail cars to speed the dowager north. His gut untwisted another notch.
Seven seats for him and his household, not counting Bindanda; nine for the dowager and her aishid, eleven counting her physician, Siegi, and her attendant, Asimi. Nomari, without his assigned guard, though they would likely accompany him to the bus door. That left seats . . . and only two other potential “principals.”
“Homura and Momichi,” he said. “Are they coming?”
“That is the question,” Tano said dryly.
“That will be Cenedi’s call,” Banichi said.
“Better they be with us,” Bren muttered. Their guard was, to be precise, under Cenedi’s command. And best that pair be under watch while bodies were shifting about.
As for comforts, all the regular staff would be there to greet them, preparing rooms and meals. It was possible Ramaso was only now summoning staff from Najida village to come to duty—there was no knowing how much warning he had had. One hoped the new network had taken care of that mundane matter some time ago, ending in a perfectly ordinary phone call from the Bujavid, advising Ramaso to bring in staff and turn on the lights.
With the possibility that could be intercepted, the sort of risk they always had, but with heightened security on this trip, Ramaso and staff might have gotten very short notice. That was no matter. Najida was secure. Kajiminda, likewise under Edi management, would be. And their enemies aboard those Dojisigi ships might have reached Jorida, but they would not yet be well set up—one hoped.
All the same, an abundance of caution, reckoning that there might have been operatives on Jorida long since, was decidedly in order.
There was that hill near the station, part of the foothills of the Southern Mountains, to the north, and another to the east, a perfect spot for spies . . . or snipers with a death wish. That had not been as high a consideration when Ilisidi’s engineers had sited the train station.
Guild would cover what the wooden barriers did not. It was just a matter of crossing the platform to the steps with fair dispatch. It was always a worry—more or less so—depending on current politics, but it gave his mind something to worry about.
He could deal with the dowager’s displeasure. Given the configuration of the train it had been impossible to gain access. In Najida estate, it was nearly impossible to avoid contact, in one sense or another.
And the jolting and racket would have ceased. That, above all else. Everybody would benefit.
He consulted his watch out of habit—discovered it set and wound: not by his hand.
Late afternoon. Was that right?
Supper? He could not remember when or whether he had had breakfast.
In the real world, dinner would be far along in preparation. A Najida dinner. He was not sure he had the capacity for it. But it was the first chance at sociality they had had since Koperna, and could go far toward setting the tone for the rest of their stay, however brief.
A dinner. Brandy. An update from Ramaso, perhaps more from him to Ramaso, but not necessarily so.
A sane conversation with the dowager . . . would be a welcome relief.
Information. She would tell him things Cenedi would not.
Another brandy. Stiff one, if you please.
Then sleep . . . on a bed that did not shake.
• • •
The rail approaching Najida from the north, he knew down to every bump and jolt; he knew all the routine of arrival—but the route they now used, coming from the west, was, frustratingly, a cipher to him.
At least it was well-maintained track as they neared the station—a brief flirtation with proper speed before they slowed. And by the thunder and the persistent wash of water over that little patch of visible sky, one could forecast an extremely soggy arrival. The station had a new concrete strip to afford dry footing for the bus this year, and a loading ramp for the market truck so no one had to haul freight up the old incline. He had not seen the new arrangement yet, but it should have been done. The estate had been planning to pour concrete. Weather permitting, it should be done, and with luck, they would not have to wade in mud to get to the bus. They could just descend from the train level into a forest of wooden pillars and step from clean new concrete onto the bus.
With very little exposure on the platform. That was a good thing.
Preparation belonged to his staff and his bodyguard, all the coordination with Cenedi’s staff, all the matter of the bus and the reception at the house. There was nothing for him to do but be sure of the location of his briefcase, his computer, and Narani’s book, then settle on the bench seat at the dining table and wait while his staff released the massive wardrobe cases that, bolted to the wall and decking, had served as closets. Those would go into the passageway to be loaded with the baggage. Tano and Algini had a set of cases to go with them. Jeladi had a valise.
Jago ventured a look out into the corridor, then came back to stand beside Bren’s table, her mere presence helping to set his roiling thoughts to one side. They were lovers, so to speak, except in public view—the Ragi word was biseti—which otherwise meant unofficial: everyone on his staff knew it, and there was no formality, not even so much as Banichi observed. But they had not been together on the train, or between-times: it was just not what they did in such a lack of privacy.
“The bus will be there when we arrive,” she said, in her calm, matter-of-fact tone. The train lurched a little. “There is that hill overlooking the station, always a small worry—today a larger one. The decision is to have the bus between us and that vantage. A precaution. We will be exposed briefly on the platform.”
“So we will need to move.” He would not have been surprised had the Guild delayed them to take possession of that hill, close, steep, and wooded.
“Cenedi’s orders,” she said with a shrug. “There will be live bodies around her. There will be ours, around you, Bren-ji.”
“I protest. I have no desire to have any of my aishid intercept a bullet. You know, we might wait until the hill is cleared.”
“Cenedi is determined, as it seems.” Jago shrugged, not happily. “Possibly Cenedi has consulted at length with Lord Geigi. He can see things despite the weather. As to what size and type of things—we are not sure. But we are moving.”
It had the flavor of Ilisidi’s own orders. Her breakneck approach to situations. God, they were here. There was no need to push.
“And we,” Jago said in measured tones, “will have you as our priority. We have made that clear.”
God. Had Cenedi dared to suggest otherwise? It went beyond everything he understood about aishid. Still . . .
“One believes the aiji would rather have his grandmother back than me, Jago-ji.”
“We,” Jago said, “have only one priority. And we shall hope Cenedi is right. That that ship has not had time enough to get its own situation in order, granted Jorida does not welcome them all with flowers and ribbons. If anyone is out there in this downpour, they are likely Ashidama’s own spies.”
Jorida did keep an eye on comings and goings at Kajiminda and Najida, never obtrusive, mostly limited to the old market road, mostly interested in the trains that went to Senjin and back. The Taisigi took a dim view of intrusions south of here, in their hunting range. But intrusions happened, and sometimes, poaching there being too risky, hunters ventured up into the foothills to the north of Najida station. It was technically Maschi hunting range up there. Operationally, it was a region of rock and scrub set aside for wildlife.
“One hopes,” he said. “Sit, Jago. We have time, yet.”
“What you will be glad to know,” Jago said, settling onto the facing bench, “the Guild force will be offloading.”
