My God! “Have they transportation, nadi?” Najida ran the local bus service, for all this region. It was, originally, why they had a bus. But it was too good a piece of luck to be landing in their lap. Could they trust these people?
Sending Guild out to investigate Edi who were on their way home after what they had been through—that would not be the most politic thing to do, even if the Guild and the Edi had trusted one another.
“They hope Najida will send the bus,” Ramaso said.
“They will not accept Guild surveillance, Rama-ji; but how shall we know all these people are uncompromised?” Threats against relatives, hostages taken, held under extreme duress—were not the only possibility. “One is extremely distressed to say so in such happy circumstances, but one can think of no better way to breach Najida’s security.”
Ramaso took a deep and sober breath. “Indeed, nandi. But other Edi can judge them. The Grandmother of Najida, with her people—she will get the truth.”
“Would she consent to go meet them? Ask her, Rama-ji, and if she will, arrange to have the bus pick her up in the village.”
“Indeed,” Ramaso said, and bowed, and hurried out.
Which left him worrying about the Grandmother’s safety. But where Aieso went, her wall of young people went with her, and any Edi would-be assassin would be daunted by her mere presence.
Well, he thought—at least one hoped so. It was the best they could do. They had to rely on the lady.
So he went out and down the hall to advise Geigi of the event personally.
“News,” he said when the servant let him in, “Geigi-ji. Nineteen of your former staff have arrived at the train station.”
“Excellent!” Geigi exclaimed, getting up from his chair, and immediately called for his coat and his bodyguard.
“One has requested the Grandmother of Najida to meet them on the bus,” he said. “In the interests of security.”
Geigi was not slow. He froze for a moment, absorbing that, then: “One will meet them here under the portico, then, with your permission, nandi.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“I shall have to go home today,” Geigi said. “And our plans have to accelerate, Bren-ji. Your house can absorb no more guests, and they will want to go there immediately.”
“A dangerous situation, potentially very dangerous.”
“One has no doubt of that. But one must, Bren-ji, one simply must do it. Our plan must go into action, to that extent—depending on what these people have to tell me. I have no choice but to do this. They expect to be able to go home.”
And bringing these people under Najida’s roof—or declining to do so—both courses held risks. On the one hand—bringing them in would expose them all to the danger Geigi intended to deal with, that one of them was a threat. On the other—it would insult the Edi to treat this as anything other than a happy event and a homecoming. Geigi saying I have to do this had a whole wealth of meaning, and much as he would like to argue with it—there was no argument.
“The wreckage is at least cleared away from your front door,” Bren said, “so the workmen report, and work has begun on resetting the pillars. Najida workmen come and go there, but the place is otherwise under the aiji’s seal, with his guards. One believes the dowager has been in contact with Shejidan on that score. They can be urged to leave as you come in. They must be.”
“Must be, indeed,” Geigi agreed.
“Supply—Outside of what the aiji’s men brought with them, there likely is a want of most things. And vehicles and communications. We have not arranged that. This has caught us all by surprise. We are not ready to have you there, Geigi-ji.”
“Now we shall draw on my own financial resources,” Geigi said, “which are not inconsiderable. If my staff feels safe to do so, they can go down to Separti and buy what we need, even a truck, if we may borrow transport from Najida to get that far.”
Rely on the Edi to check things out and to be sure of the security of the sources and the items from Separti, where they knew there were Marid agents?
He was entirely uneasy about that, too. Guild could be damned clever at their work, and one had far rather rely on other Guild to figure out the likely ploys, when it came to high-level operators.
“One worries about this,” he said plainly. “One worries extremely, Geigi-ji. One is quite sure the Marid will try something when this news gets to them. They will have been embarrassed—granted they did not arrange this.”
“My aishid will be with me,” Geigi said with a little shrug. “For the rest—I shall simply trust my staff. I always have. Without them—there is very little point of my existence as the lord of Kajiminda, is there?”
“One can think of extraordinarily many points to your existence, Geigi-ji! Please remember that you are an associate the dowager and I and the aiji himself would be extremely grieved to lose. You are a target. You are a high-value target! If the Marid could take you out—”
Geigi laughed. “I shall take no chances, Bren-ji. I do trust the Edi. From the beginnings of my life I have trusted them. This is no different. I know their faces. I know their expressions, of all my people. I speak their language that they use among themselves. If I detect a problem, I shall signal you immediately.”
“I shall go talk to the dowager,” he said, “and hope we can arrange this smoothly.”
They had about half an hour or less to arrange things smoothly—somewhat more for the Guild inside Kajiminda to arrange their situation.
And the dowager was—depend on it—already aware of what was going on. Even smug about it.
“We shall manage, paidhi-ji,” had been her word.
There was a steely twinkle in her eye. Accordingly one had the sudden feeling that certain movements and timing were not wholly outside the dowager’s control—and yes, the aiji’s men would readily clear Kajiminda the moment Geigi arrived to take possession of the house. Guild would hand off to Geigi’s Guild, all quite regular, very quick, very quiet, and with no reference to the Edi wishing the inlander Guild generally in hell.
There were a thousand questions one would like to ask Ilisidi about her phone calls this morning, and probably Banichi and Jago could say exactly where those calls had gone, courtesy of Cenedi and Nawari—but Guild would talk to Guild, for any information that had to be passed, and meanwhile the paidhi had other things on his hands, imminent things.
The bus, for instance, and the need to give specific orders, with nineteen people standing on the platform at the train station, exposed to snipers and God knew what until they could get there.
The bus was reported to have pulled out of its garage and indeed, the Grandmother of Najida would go out to meet the incomers, along with all four of lord Geigi’s Edi domestic staff. The bus pulled up under the portico, picked up those four, and set out on its run, kicking up a cloud of dust on the road in its haste.
Ilisidi ordered a pot of tea and a snack, and the paidhi decided to spend his time coordinating a list of supplies for Kajiminda, including some essentials to go with Geigi.
And to grim looks from his staff, he ordered his own bags packed, because Geigi’s security had been years on the station, out of touch with what the planet had to offer, for far too long.
There was one graceful way to get additional help over there—for the paidhi-aiji to pay a courtesy visit to Kajiminda, and incidentally to have his bodyguard go over the arrangements and provide backup firepower so long as the paidhi was under that roof.
“Are you leaving, nand’ Bren?” Cajeiri caught him in the hall, and interposed a very worried question. “What does mani say?”
“Your great-grandmother I am sure is perfectly aware, young gentleman,” Bren said with a bow. “I shall not surprise her.”
“We would go with you,” Cajeiri said, “if we were older.”
“One appreciates the sentiment, young gentleman, and one assures you—we shall be very careful. Remember your father’s guard has been days in the pl
ace.”
“I regularly escape from my father’s guard,” the young rascal said with a contemptuous lift of his chin, “and I do it very easily. Please be careful, nand’ Bren! My father’s guard is not up to Banichi and Cenedi!”
He was amused, and tried not to show it.“We shall check everything, young gentleman.”
“May we come out to see you off?”
Difficult question. A hazard. But everything was a hazard. “You may stand by the door—only by the door. If there should be trouble you should dive right back inside: set that in your head. Do you agree?”
“Yes!” the young rascal said, and was off, attended by, one noted, Antaro and Jegari. His other two bodyguards had been making pests of themselves today, probably at the young rascal’s orders, at the security station, and were likely still there.
But Cajeiri had hardly left before he was back again, not bothering to knock. “The bus is coming, the bus is coming, nand’ Bren!”
“One is gratified to know it,” Bren murmured. “Have your bodyguard advise Lord Geigi and your great-grandmother.”
Gone again. On a mission. Bren put on his coat and walked out into the hall first to meet Banichi and Jago, who were on their way to him, and then to intercept Lord Geigi and his bodyguard. They started on their way to the front doors, and the dowager appeared, walking with a greatly sobered and proper Cajeiri, and with Cenedi and Nawari.
The house doors opened just as the bus pulled up and sighed to a stop. Its doors opened, and disgorged first the venerable Grandmother and the local folk, who gathered into a knot near the front of the bus—and Lord Geigi’s servants, who came to him, while the bus continued to pour out passengers. The new people were mostly older, with a few young men and women—there had been standing room only on that bus.
“Peisi!” Geigi exclaimed in sudden recognition, and walked out to meet an old man, who bowed, deeply affected, and Geigi bowed, and soon they were the center of a cluster of older folk, the younger hanging back in uncommon solemnity.
It was not all good news that was relayed, Bren surmised, watching that exchange and the sad nods. Geigi surely asked after absent staff, and did not get, apparently, a happy answer in all cases. Bren hung back with the dowager and Cajeiri, in company with their security, not to forget that there were others of the Guild up on the roof, maintaining a watch and a vantage over the whole situation.
There must have been a phone call gone out to the village, too, because in not too long a time, people came walking up the road, meeting old acquaintances with a great deal of bowing and politeness. Some of the villagers had brought small gifts, packets of, perhaps, food; or items they thought might be in scarcity at Kajiminda, like tea, and pressed these little packets on the Kajiminda staff.
Geigi was quite moved by it all. And came to present his elderly majordomo to the dowager and to the young gentleman, and to Bren: “I remember you, Peisi-nadi,” Bren said, and did. The good will was palpable, in all present, and made all their precautions seem excessive.
One recalled it was exactly the mood evoked in the machimi plays—before the last act. They now had to get back on that bus, he and everyone involved.
He had not—God!—remembered to tell Toby where he was going. He had been in the atevi world, lost in it, and he had outright forgotten. But it was too late. Barb and Toby had not come out. They were probably back in the basement, oblivious to what was happening above, until some servant might inform them they now could move back upstairs.
And with a certain misgiving, and a look back at his own front door, Bren paid his parting respects to the dowager and Cajeiri, bows.
“One anticipates,” he said, “at least a stay overnight.” The baggage compartment of the bus was open, and staff was loading on his baggage, including supplies, and his entire aishid’s gear, and Geigi’s four, which took some shoving. “One regrets to withdraw any support from your safety here, aiji-ma. But—”
“We shall manage,” the dowager said. “Take care, nand’ paidhi.”
And to Cajeiri he said: “Bend all your energies to protecting your great-grandmother, young lord. See that the doors stay shut and people stay within the house. And one asks a personal favor. Go downstairs and explain to nand’ Toby that I shall be gone just overnight and that nothing is wrong. One absolutely relies on you.”
“Yes, nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri said soberly. And: “We so wish we were going.”
“The young gentleman knows . . .”
“We know,” Cajeiri sighed. And added helpfully: “We jammed the surveillance in the second tower. Perhaps my father’s men have fixed it. But it could still be broken. You should check that!”
“We shall indeed, young lord,” Bren said, and took his leave and went to escort Lord Geigi up onto the bus.
He had all four of his bodyguards going with him; Geigi had his four, and his four domestics, and that meant many of the younger returning staff had to stand in the aisle, but it was all in good, if solemn, cheerfulness. People carried aboard their gifts, tied with colored string, and, wrapped in colored tissue, even a bouquet of seasonal household flowers and some stones and a small winter branch, a token of alliance, no matter the season, for display in the house.
Their Najidi driver got on board and started up the engine, closing the doors. Villagers and staff cleared away slowly from the path of the bus.
The village truck was waiting out on the road, loaded with such bulky things as flour, preserves, and other foodstuffs and basic necessities from Najida estate—there was no likelihood the aiji’s men would have allowed anything to remain in storage from the prior resident when they were clearing the place, for fear of poison, and just as a matter of policy. The search and clearance would have taken the pantry down to bare shelves, Banichi said, and so the truck would go on back to the train station, not down to Separti, and pick up a double supply of groceries they meant to order in, some for Kajiminda, and others for Najida and its village. It might be slightly short commons this evening, give or take what Najida sent, but supplies would be coming in tomorrow.
There was a load of lumber coming in, too, on the train; not to mention Lord Geigi’s new truck—that was already ordered. And a bus. Kajiminda would need its own bus, and fairly soon.
Kajiminda was coming back to life, and took all manner of supply. It was a cheerful prospect they had.
And somewhere out there across the meadows and small woods, Edi were out doing their own survey of sites, which would mean more building supplies coming in from the south. Businesses down in Separti and Dalaigi were going to be happy about that—without quite figuring, yet, perhaps, that the way politics had run on the west coast for two hundred years was about to undergo a sea change.
The truck traveled ahead of them, too, for a very practical reason—it protected the bus. Though Ilisidi’s young men had kept a very close eye on the district, one never forgot there were some very good Guild doubtless under orders to infiltrate and cause harm of various sort. Guild rules protected non-Guild from involvement; but one had, Algini had once said, no confidence that the Guildsmen in Marid employ were going to be as observant of the rules.
“Some Guild in Southern employ now are outlaws,” Algini had said on that occasion, a rare revelation about internal Guild operations, “who did not report in to Guild headquarters after the aiji’s return. Some are reported dead, which the Guild very much doubts. We have been quietly hunting these people. Some are suspect of crimes and illegal tactics.”
Chilling memory, on this occasion.
But thus far the Guild was handling the whole district with tongs—because of the Edi.
He would bet a great deal that Algini had communicated personally with Guild headquarters, to relay to Guild leadership certain very unpleasant observations . . . and possibly to receive certain orders from Guild leadership. Algini had said he was no longer operating at that level of the Guild, but the fact was that those who did operate at that level of the Guild were inclined to devel
op a cover story, so no often meant no, but it sometimes meant one was not talking.
Geigi had settled opposite him, with his security standing just behind, as his own sat and stood near him; and the bus moved quite slowly, pacing itself behind the truck . . . which had not yet run into any undermined culvert, or other such illegal trick.
“I am nerving myself for what I shall see, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “The devastation of my grounds, my orchard . . . my collections. I wish this were a happier moment in that regard. But I have recovered my people. My people.”
“Be assured about the orchard,” Bren said. “One has just read part of your nephew’s account, and he claims to have planted new trees in the west of the orchard.”
“Gods know what he planted,” Geigi said with a deep sigh. “But that does offer some hope. And my boat. I hope it has survived intact.”
“When last my staff was there, it was riding securely at anchor, and they handed matters directly to the aiji’s men. One hopes they have checked it out.”
“Baji-naji,” Geigi said. “One hopes so, too.”
Bump. Even the modern bus springs had trouble with that one.
The road had seen a bit more traffic since their last visit—the Najida truck traveling back and forth had actually worn down the grassy track here and there. The bumps, however, were little improved.
But when they came to the turn off toward Kajiminda estate, and when they had reached the gates, the view of the harbor showed Lord Geigi’s yacht riding serene and safe on the dark water. That heartened Geigi to no end, enough to lift his spirits even in the face of conditions inside the estate grounds: the neglect of paint and edgings about the walls, the sad state of the gates, hanging crooked on their hinges, and notably the portico being completely missing—except two and a half pillars with the beginnings of a timber frame between two of them.
“Najida is doing a grand job, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “You are a most excellent neighbor.”
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