“One is certain he will see you, young gentleman,” she said, and let them all in: Veijico and Lucasi would have stood outside, in formal manners, with just Antaro and Jegari coming inside, but Cajeiri beckoned them all in, and they all came with him . . . which was just as well: guards standing outside did advertise to staff and everybody who was meeting with whom, and he had just as well not cause any gossip even on this restricted floor, as tense as the situation was. Mani’s staff still received mail and messages at her apartment across the hall and midway between nand’ Bren’s and Uncle’s.
Uncle was in his study, at his desk, looking grim and busy over his papers.
“Nandi,” Saidin-daja said, clearing her throat, and Uncle looked up. It was as if the sun had come up, the welcome in his expression, which made it certain the visit was a good idea.
Cajeiri gave a little bow, and Uncle asked Saidin-daja to bring tea and cakes.
“All of you sit,” Uncle said, meaning even his aishid: they were that comfortable with Uncle.
So they did, and Uncle took his own leather chair. “Have you heard from your great-grandmother?” was Uncle’s first question.
“No, Uncle. One hoped you had.”
Uncle’s face showed a little distress. “One understands she is at Hasjuran. With nand’ Bren, Lord Machigi, and our associate from Ajuri, all about this railroad business. I have not heard a word else, and I am worried. I am quite worried. There is altitude, there is cold, and it all involves Marid politics.”
“Cousin Nomari spied on Lord Bregani for Lord Machigi.”
“I have heard that.”
There were things Uncle might not know, not having access to Father. And Uncle, despite being left behind, was mani’s strongest ally, and smart, besides. There was nothing Uncle would do that would put mani at risk. And of all people who was canny about politics and secrets. Uncle had talked to Father. Once. And in company with others.
He had promised his aishid, he had promised strictly not to tell anyone.
But Uncle . . .
Uncle was no fool. And of all things unfortunate, it was unfortunate that Uncle was not with mani right now, to advise her, and to listen.
It was not right. It was not right that Uncle was not involved in this. Father was not used to relying on him, but he was. And Uncle was not just anyone.
“Mani has gone there,” Cajeiri said, deliberately, “to talk Lord Bregani into allying with Lord Machigi. She has taken Nomari and nand’ Bren with her. And she has the Guild operating in Senjin. In Koperna.”
“Gods less fortunate.”
He did not recall he had ever heard Uncle swear, not even when Aunt Geidaro had come to his house to provoke him. “She has one Guild force with her. She has gotten Bregani to sign, and the Guild evidently has Koperna under control. And she has been up at Hasjuran. But now there is a third train, and I do not know what it is doing.”
They had not had their tea. Servants had started preparing it, but Uncle’s first question had started them down this track, and then the servants all stopped and everything froze. They were Uncle’s own staff, Atageini clan, Madam Saidin chief among them, and her staff was as honest as any anywhere.
“Dojisigin is going to react,” Uncle said. “Does anyone think otherwise?”
“My older aishid thinks she wants that,” Cajeiri said. “I asked them to find out what it all is, and they are trying. I promised them the greatest secrecy, and telling you, honored Uncle, I know I am bending that, but I approve it. And I think you need to know. You know mani better than anyone. I know she is up to something serious. And I know she does not trust Cousin, but she took him. I think she wants to see whether Machigi being there would find out something. Or maybe he knows something about Lord Bregani. Or maybe she is just trying to catch him in a fault.”
“Nomari-nadi will not change. I would be astonished if he lied in any significant particular. She is relying on that pirate, meanwhile.”
Uncle meant Lord Machigi.
“Lord Machigi has Dausigi and Sungeni allied to him,” Cajeiri said, a little proud of himself that he had thought on the whole situation, and where mani was now, and come up with a sensible reason. “If he allies with Senjin, too, Lord Tiajo will be all alone.”
“And dangerous!” Uncle said. “That is a Guild-trained opposition.”
“Great-grandmother is dangerous, too.”
Uncle unexpectedly laughed, quietly, but he did look more cheerful at that. “I so wish I were there.”
“So do I wish I were there, honored Uncle. I hope she will stay on the train. I hope she will take care of herself.”
At that Uncle looked less cheerful. “I would never wager on it.”
“Nand’ Bren will argue with her.”
“One of the few,” Uncle said, then looked about him at the quiet, waiting servants. “Tea! Tea, Saia-ji, if you will. My grand-nephew, at least, consults me on matters of state.”
“I think you could visit Father,” Cajeiri said. “I think he would tell you things he would not tell me. And then you can tell me the rest of it.”
Uncle arched a brow, very like mani in that expression—smiled and nodded. “My favorite nephew.”
“Your only nephew.”
“Well, but still my favorite.”
“Tell Father you have heard no news,” Cajeiri said. “It is not quite lying, since after he tells you, you will have heard it.”
“You have absorbed her ways.”
“Mani says,” Cajeiri said, “you can mend a little lie a lot easier than you can mend a truth.”
* * *
• • •
“So,” Bren said, having invited Nomari to tea and explanations. He set his cup down. Nomari did.
“I told the truth,” was Nomari’s first statement.
“One does not doubt,” Bren said. “Do not be anxious. I am constructing an explanation should anyone in Senjin or in Shejidan ask. But one wishes not to err in the facts of the matter. What was the sequence of events?”
“She knocked at my door, encountered my bodyguard and they brought her in, nandi, as she was in distress.”
“No one had harmed her. She had no specifics of any apprehension.”
“No one had harmed her. She was uneasy about the descent, and equally so about her parents’ meeting with the dowager . . . on which I knew nothing. And could tell her nothing. I still know nothing.”
“You reassured her. On what terms? Did you make any promises or offers?”
Nomari considered that a moment, and one detected a flicker of understanding, perhaps, of the reason for questions.
“I assured her, nandi, that the train was operating normally. I told this very train has taken this route before and that the train crew is extremely skilled, this being the dowager’s train, and I believe that the Red Train when she is aboard always has the same crew, nandi. But I did not say that. I said just that they were very good.”
“Your information on that is likely better than mine. And there were no promises or offers?”
“I offered her tea and wafers. I said . . . I said that, given her father had signed into association with the dowager, her parents should be perfectly safe, and that, besides, the aiji-dowager has never, to my knowledge, hurt anyone who came to tea with her.”
That required a certain facial control.
“She would never,” Bren said, “extend protection to Lord Bregani and then change her mind. You would also be correct to say that because she has promised to return him to Senjin, she will do it, if it takes the Guild to clear the path—which is actually the case, at the moment. Did you express assurance on that matter?”
“One just said—she would never go back on her hospitality.”
The tea incident involving him was an anomaly. Had there ever been another? Bren had no knowledge on that score.
Likely it had been a moment’s inspiration. Or curiosity, since human intolerance for substances atevi relished was a report, not a certain understanding. But then—his taking the cup had put him, in a sense, into the dowager’s personal reckoning, whether because she had not believed it would harm him, and found it was not a lie; or that he had passed a test of nerves. He had not thought he ought to refuse. She might have thought his taking it challenged her integrity. Whatever it was, he had passed initial scrutiny. Thereafter she had only tried to break his neck on a country ride, before she concluded he had qualities useful to her.
“One does not say she will never test you,” Bren said. “But there is no lord more honest or more protective of her allies. One does not say that you may not also meet sharp questions from her grandson, but the dowager will not change course and leave you. The problem is—your problem is—you have associated with her chief ally, Lord Tatiseigi, and her great-grandson, in a region which has been repeatedly threatened by Ajuri’s actions. So you can surely understand her interest. And understand her watching you closely on this venture.”
“One does, nandi. But I could not let the girl wander about the train.”
That was not the answer he was looking for. He let the silence remain a moment. Then:
“You do understand your relevance to current issues.”
The silence persisted a moment.
“Yes,” Nomari said. “Yes, nandi.”
“Have you, in prior times, met Lord Machigi?”
“I have reported to him.”
“Directly to him.”
“Yes.”
“Have you met Lord Bregani?”
“I have been in his presence. There was no conversation, as such. I was just a person. A witness.”
“To?”
“A meeting. In the residency. I was listening to questions of Lord Tiajo’s representative, on trade. On warehousing. On personnel.”
“Have you met any member of Lord Bregani’s family prior to this?”
“No, nandi.”
“Nor met his daughter.”
“No, nandi. Absolutely I have not. I saw her once. She was a child, maybe twelve years old.”
“After Tabini-aiji’s return to power, did you continue to spy on Lord Bregani?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you should tell me about that, nadi?”
Nomari shrugged. “It was the same sort of thing: what was shipped. What was traded. What Dojisigi might be present in Senjin. What reports came out of the Dojisigin. And what was rumored about the north. Nothing changed. But I left, once it was safe to move about. I stayed out of the Marid, generally. I had no wish to attract attention.”
“Were you there when the dowager made an agreement with Lord Machigi? Were you present for any of that?”
“I was not, nandi. I knew nothing of it until it was rumored in the north.”
It all accorded with his observations of interactions, at least.
“Why did you restrain your aishid from reporting Husai’s whereabouts?”
“Until I knew what was going on, nandi, until I knew it was not something more complicated, I had no wish to interrupt the meeting. I thought if something had happened, at least she was safe where she was, and when the meeting was over, then I would have them report.”
“Why did she go to your door?”
“Because she was afraid of the bodyguard in her compartment and she was afraid of Lord Machigi.”
“But not of you.”
“I am not any power in this,” Nomari said. “I am just a passenger. Like her.”
“She might think that,” Bren said. “But you expect greater things for yourself.”
“I am still,” Nomari said, “only a passenger.”
“For now,” Bren said. “But you know your circumstances may change. And what I say now is not fact-finding, but a sense of where the dowager stands, nadi, so do hear me, and be honest with me if you disagree. Any association with this young lady, she being who she is, would add far too much complication to your situation. Her house has a history of contracts made and offspring produced with the northern houses, which is why, to a certain extent, we now have the prospect of war before us. The Marid is very loosely attached to the aishidi’tat: its five provinces have had their own intrigues for centuries, as has the north, and the East, and they only get worse by combining their problems. Far better you look to Dur or Cobo, even Targai or Kajiminda for a partner—when it becomes appropriate. Forgive a human for conducting this discussion, but I am relaying the dowager’s concerns, for your best outcome and the young lady’s.”
Nomari looked intensely uneasy—embarrassed, one thought. It was certainly mutual.
“I am far from being able to take on the responsibility of a marriage, contract or otherwise,” Nomari said. “But I thank you for relaying that.”
“I have said fully enough,” Bren said. “Will you enjoy a brandy, nadi?”
“I would not impose.”
“We are entirely at leisure at the moment. Please accept. Congenial company is welcome, and you need not feel that you are walking on dangerous ground hereafter, nadi, in casual conversation with me. I swear to you I observe discretion with personal matters, aside from matters of state. I have sympathy for your situation, coming to court as an outsider. I have certainly had that experience.”
Nomari looked at him uneasily. Nomari had never seen a human until they had met on this train, but Nomari had been courteous, trying hard, one gathered, to find his own path.
“One is grateful, nand’ paidhi. I shall appreciate the brandy.”
8
One was glad to have visited Uncle Tatiseigi. And one had lined up mentally the things one could say and should say, and made a decision, one that he had had to make—for mani’s sake, for everybody’s. Uncle could not be allowed to fall away from mani, all because Great-grandmother had a feud with Mother.
Cajeiri was back in his own suite. Shedding his formal coat into Eisi’s hands, trying to assess what he had just done . . . he was not sorry. He was glad, over all, that he had visited Uncle. Uncle had been worried and had gotten no satisfaction from Father, who had been trying to walk a middle, impersonal course between Mother and Great-grandmother. Cajeiri had no trouble picking that out.
They had had a lengthy talk. Uncle had already found out there was a connection between Machigi and Nomari, so that part had not been news to him. He was not quite sure how Uncle had found that out, but Father might have told him.
Uncle had also called Machigi a pirate, which was not exactly true, so far as he knew, but that had always been Uncle’s opinion. Machigi certainly gave that kind of impression, even if there was nothing precisely that had ever proved it—and in fact, Lord Machigi’s ships had suffered piracy, from back when the Edi people were luring ships onto the rocks, as they now had promised never to do.
What Uncle truly, truly resented about Machigi, Cajeiri was sure, was the fact that mani had made an alliance with him in the first place. Uncle, being a northern and a midlands lord, and one of the most important in all the aishidi’tat, was not in favor of the Marid as a whole, and regarded them as enemies . . . which was actually true through most of history. The whole southern half of the aishidi’tat was different, not being Ragi, and in several cases maintaining distance from Shejidan, though cooperating and paying their taxes and all. The absolutely southernmost clans just stood apart and ignored laws at their convenience, but the northern part of the south—which there ought to be a name for—included the Edi people, and nand’ Bren’s estate, and Lord Geigi’s, and the new Maschi lord, who was an associate of Lord Geigi, so they were all truly, truly part of the aishidi’tat, even if there were irregularities. Like nand’ Bren. Like all Najida district being Edi. And just admitted to the legislature.
But there had once been another civil
ization, on the Southern Isle, way early, more than a thousand, maybe two thousand years ago, that some said had had all sorts of secrets and inventions, and had outposts clear up as far as Cobo, and in the Marid Sea, and on Mospheira, when Mospheira had belonged to the tribal peoples. They had fairly well had their way in the world, until a huge earthquake had hit offshore of the Southern Island and a tidal wave had wiped out huge cities and ports and ships and everything, and fairly well devastated the whole south coast of the continent while it was about it. And the earthquakes kept coming, all over the south. Only the Marid Sea had been protected by islands and its deep inset into the coast, and the Mospheiran strait was somewhat protected, and the east and the west coast were protected. So the Southern Island became a wasteland, and the old cities along the southern coast were ruined and some of them sunk. The only place on the whole southern coast that survived were the colonies in the Marid, who had mixed with the mainland folk until they were speaking a sort of Ragi, and mostly lost their own language, except for scholars.
The Marid’s southern islands and its deep inset protected it from all the earthquakes and the waves. Ships that were lucky enough to be there survived. And they set the whole Southern Island under a curse, that as long as people stayed away from it, the sea would stop trying to take it. Which was what Marid folk said. They adopted all sorts of ideas as their own, and they also believed in spirits that did not like people, who brought earthquakes and sent the waves. The Marid folk took to the local gods and said if ever ships landed on the shores of the Southern Island they should be sunk and never allowed to reach a port, because if they did, they could bring these hostile spirits with them, and the rest of the world would suffer.
It was in a book Cajeiri had found in Father’s library. It was fairly scary, with pictures of these spirits rousing up the waves to take down the wharves and the towers of the Southern Island, which had had a real name, once, but nobody said it.
That was the Marid, that mani had decided should finally really join the aishidi’tat.
Ragi were the gods’ creation from before the gods divided themselves, some of them hostile to their creation and some of them not, which were the Gods Fortunate and the Gods Less Fortunate—the latter called that because their real names invited problems. The numbers of the gods were felicitous, so one must never wish ill on one; and the numbers of the world were felicitous if one could truly calculate them the right way. That was what Ragi thought. And the Edi thought another thing, that they had come up out of the ground knowing things that they knew less and less of as generations passed. And the Maschi of the south thought the same as Ragi did, except they believed the numbers were flawed and the Gods Less Fortunate knew how they were flawed, which was why they were hostile, and wanted to take the world down.
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