Algini had a wry sense of humor. And it was engaged.
“We are studying the daylight images Lord Geigi has provided,” Banichi said, “and checking with units already deployed, trying to determine who is holding certain locations. We are now communicating freely with Headquarters and their resources—they also have the advanced devices, as, I believe, does Tabini-aiji. The first-in at Koperna do not have that capability, so there is still some worry about leaks. Local enforcement, too, is adding some confusion to the matter, since they are not on either of our systems and are far from secure, but once we get there and get units into the field with communications, the situation should stabilize rapidly.”
“We also,” Bren said, “have to explain things to Lord Bregani. And to Lord Machigi and, out of courtesy and for good will, also to Nomari. One doubts either is sleeping.”
“I will undertake that,” Tano said.
Tano was in many respects the diplomat of the unit. One thought of going oneself . . . but one also thought that one’s wits were not at their sharpest if one of those individuals wanted more answers than he ought to give, and raised questions they would not tend to raise with a messenger.
“Do, Tano-ji,” Bren said. “I would be very grateful. The rest of us should try to sleep. Tano, tell our passengers we are making progress. And we should all be dressed and ready when we reach Koperna. That is all I know.”
12
It was not the easiest thing, to settle to rest with the train making steady progress and a war zone not far removed. Resting in interludes was a thing the Guild could manage—was trained to manage; and an out-of-place human tried, but there were only questions to roll over in his mind, and the pace of the joints in the rails to say that they were indeed proceeding more slowly than that brief burst of speed over safe track.
Was it a threat? Bren wondered; and from where? But Jago had dropped off to sleep. She breathed quietly, steadily, beside him, and he concentrated on that comforting rhythm, which did not change.
So . . . cell phones had arrived—as part of Geigi’s bid to put down the Shadow Guild. But they had to come. It would bring changes, but only so far, one hoped, as restoring the ability the Guild had once had of mediating a quarrel or coordinating responses. The Guild had its voice back. And it was an atevi solution. It was not a bad thing. Unfortunate the situation that had called them into use, but over all, it was not disaster. He could be glad of that.
The Messengers, whose territory Geigi’s system would violate, were going to have a strong response to a change in the Assassins’ communications, while the Assassins were going to argue that it was no different than the Assassins’ regular exemption from the Messengers’ authority—God help him, he could see that fuss shaping up. But it would be a joy and a relief, if that was all.
He had a veto, though a thin one when it came to proliferation of a technology already proliferated. Tabini had a far more direct one, and he could get the necessary restrictions enshrined in law. The Assassins, being in charge of the exchanges of a hot nature between clans—had to be the answer. The Messengers, long sunk in partisan actions, would not be involved, argue as they might. They might try to claim Mogari-nai’s big dish as a precedent. But it was an outmoded one, outmoded in only a decade or so, and the Messengers could do as they would with it. Conduct tours of it for the curious, of what had used to be the most secretive and sensitive installation on the continent.
So much the world changed. Geigi had had the clear view, from his perch in the heavens. A paidhi in all but name. Speaker to humans. Innovator with an innate atevi perspective and instinct.
It was comforting, to think of Geigi up there at the moment, sitting at some console, watching an image, tracking them even tonight, on their way.
He wanted to shut his eyes and open them again at the announcement they had made it into Koperna, that they were coming safely into the station, and the purview of another Guild force.
But that was not happening.
Banichi had come back, and sat down. Jago waked.
“Where are we?” Bren asked. “We are going fast, by the sound of it.”
“Passing Lusi’ei,” Banichi said. “Without stopping. Bren-ji, we have a problem.”
“A problem.” They were in touch with Shejidan. Anything was possible.
“We have intelligence that the Shadow Guild has targeted the dowager—seriously, and imminently. We find it possible that she was the real target of Lord Bregani’s subverted guard—he is in the second half of the unit and as such was not in her presence: we are inquiring with him . . .”
That could cover a great deal.
“ . . . and he appears cooperative. He says he had no information about his target. It was to come. And it never came. But we are not taking that as unarguable truth. Or this man as the appointed agent. We are viewing records and double-checking our research for everybody else in this mission. We may have been lucky. We may have eliminated the threat. But the dowager has certainly given them reason to be upset.”
“Homura was invited aboard,” Jago said, “and declined the invitation, Tano said.”
“It is a consideration,” Banichi said. “We hope the dowager will keep to the train, and not attempt to go into the city. You are particularly persuasive with her. As is Cenedi.”
“I understand,” he said. It was nothing new. There were always worries. But they were not in the north, where resources could be trusted. “Does she know?”
“I believe Cenedi is informing her, and attempting to reason with her.”
One knew how well that might work. “If he cannot, I will try.”
The passageway door opened, and Bindanda came in, unmistakeable in his galley whites, and his girth. Bindanda had been with the dowager’s galley team the whole trip, and brought them a tray, now, with the smell of fresh bread and sweet spices.
They were nearing their destination, for good or ill.
It was early for breakfast. And Bren had not had so much as a change of shirt, let alone a night’s rest—napping here and there. The smell of sweet rolls roused Narani and Jeladi, and Bren levered himself up from the chair where he had spent the night.
There was no way to predict what the day would be, but it was about to resolve itself, and he needed his wits about him, something in his stomach, and at least as a precaution, the damned protective vest and his pistol, after a visit to the accommodation and a change of clothes. Any day that started with that requirement was set up as a long one. He was not sure how long he had slept—not nearly enough, a cumulative two to three hours of catnaps if he was lucky. He had been sleeping Guild-style, where and when he could during the descent, and since the lander.
But, merciless, the galley knew when they would arrive, and when they needed breakfast, at the edge of arrival and a call to duty, all of them.
He had to talk to Ilisidi, somewhere before they arrived.
Lights flared up full, blinding, as he reached the galley counter and took the cup of tea Narani pushed into his reach.
“Rani-ji. Thank you.”
A spice roll followed, on a small plate. He stood, barefoot on the tile, and ate, still disreputable. Algini was checking over his gear, and Banichi and Tano, fully dressed, were both having their breakfast. Bren took his turn in the accommodation, shed clothes, shaved and washed—then leaned, forehead against the cold metal of the wall and shut his eyes a moment, thinking . . . one more hour. One more hour of sleep would have set him up.
Not to be, however.
And he had to look presentable. Or fit to be shot at.
He turned on the cold tap, held icewater to his face for a bit, then toweled dry and came out to dress as far as shirt and trousers.
Narani poured a second cup of tea, and Bren drank it, standing at the counter, while Jeladi braided up his queue. Jago, fresh-scrubbed and in a short-sleeved knit, moved in to
take a roll and a cup of tea.
“We have advised the force in Koperna that we are coming in,” Jago said. “They are reconfiguring to give us a safe berth and an easy offload of equipment. We also have word that the navy is moving in.”
The navy. God. The navy did not magically turn up in the Marid sea, halfway across the continent from its usual range.
“Who arranged that?” he asked, swallowing a piece of sweet roll.
“One or the other,” Jago said with a shrug. “The aiji or the aiji-dowager. They have come here all the way from the strait, so they started from days ago.”
Along with everything else, Bren thought.
Along with Ilisidi’s determination. And she could move ships of the fleet. So at least Tabini would have been warned that was happening.
In all that had ever gone on since the War of the Landing, the navy of the aishidi’tat had never left their centuries-long watch over the Mospheiran straits.
“What is she expecting?” he asked in some disquiet.
“We do not know,” Jago said. “Tabini-aiji will have known where they are, and Lord Geigi might know what is out there, but we do not, at this moment. Cenedi may be in touch with him—with the new equipment.”
Might know, as to position. And now might be talking directly to them. Geigi would have watched it all. Those ships had to have begun moving, given the distance—God, how far was it from the straits to the Marid, and how fast could they move?
The ships were there. That was all he needed to know.
And repositioning them made a certain sense. For the first time in the last two hundred years, there was no perceived threat from Mospheira, but definitely there was a potential one here. It was both disturbing that they had moved, and comforting. There was no ship sailing the Marid that could face one of them. They were much more like the ships Ilisidi had promised Machigi—to Tabini’s considerable displeasure—steel-sided and independent of the wind.
And possessed of cannons.
Meanwhile, Banichi had the maps in hand. Jeladi had let down the conference table, and Banichi spread out a map of Koperna, and indicated the railyard where they would come in, below the several hills, one hill with the residency and a number of houses and shops, and another hill with the radio station toward the eastern edge of the city. The railyard and a number of industries and warehouses sat near a small river, the Seski. Two bridges united another residential and commercial area on the south side.
It began to be real. Elsewhere on the train, their passengers would be breakfasted, made aware they were coming in, and have their own anticipation of the next number of hours, wherein, if things went as ordinary, things they had not planned would happen, and they would have to deal with them.
Meanwhile—
He stood, watching the conference around a map he had studied, but did not control, and drank a second cup of tea, waiting for a plan to emerge, waiting to know how to dress, whether they would host civic leaders aboard, in style, or whether they would be scrambling about under fire, with the need to be inconspicuous.
“Ladi-ji,” he said to Jeladi, his sometime valet being closest. “I should dress. One has no idea in what. Do we have any idea?
“I shall ask,” Jeladi said, and moved off, hoping that the official plan did not involve the dowager taking one of the unshielded transports up the central street to the residency. If it did not—good. He need not disturb her. If it did—
He wished he had a window. He wished he had any clue where they were at the moment, except that Lusi’ei and Koperna fairly well ran together, by scattered enterprises and houses. The train was still running as if there were absolutely no difference between this run and the placid northern countryside.
Banichi came to him. “Lord Bregani is asking to return to the residency immediately after we arrive at the station. He is adamant that his people realize he is not a prisoner, and that he is in control of the situation.”
That sort of thing was not his decision to make. “Will the dowager agree?”
“Cenedi is, at the moment, assessing the situation in the railyard and consulting with the dowager. He has asked us to deal with this. In particular, he has asked me to deal with this. He is insisting the dowager cannot leave the train until there is security in town.”
That was a distinct relief, but not a final one.
“Unfortunately,” Banichi said, “I am called on to escort Lord Bregani up and take command, as next-senior to Cenedi. He is reserving Nawari and an elite force here. I am reluctant to leave you to a situation where you cannot be the priority, Bren-ji. But I do not want you with me.”
“And go by yourself?” Break up his aishid for the sake of Bregani’s, admittedly justifiable, impatience?
“These are my alternatives, Bren-ji. We cannot delay about this once we reach the station.”
That was unacceptable. “Well, then, there is an alternative, that Bregani’s assigned aishid continue to protect him and you continue to protect me, while I exercise my office as negotiator and go with Bregani and Machigi. I am relatively sure Cenedi had rather see Machigi and his guard out of the dowager’s vicinity.”
“In the case Machigi feels threatened, we might have trouble with Taisigi forces deciding to come in . . .”
“But you have communications that could reach to the station and back, and Lord Geigi could advise Lord Machigi that intruding arms into Senjin would not be the best move.”
Banichi gazed at him soberly across the table. “It is at best an unstable situation up at the residency.”
“It will improve with the forces we will bring with us. The residency occupies two city squares. It will require resources to secure. Bregani’s bodyguard, mine, Machigi’s . . . perhaps even Nomari’s, another problem I had as soon have out of the dowager’s vicinity . . . will give you ample personnel to deal with any situation, and lessen the number of problems Cenedi has to watch over. Moving Bregani up to the residency, which he wants, at least does not concentrate everyone the Dojisigin would wish to attack into one train in the railyard. We can divide their attention.”
“With bait your personal aishid had far rather not use!”
Bren shrugged. “If they are going to attack, it is an even chance which they would attack first, and my odds are even.”
Banichi frowned. Deeply. “You would distract me.”
Bren shrugged. “Ignore me. Leave my defense to the rest of us.”
“You know how impossible that is, Bren-ji.”
One only imagined how impossible it was. Except when he thought of danger to his aishid. Then imagination was out the proverbial window.
“I promise to hear instruction,” he said, and drew a desperate and brief laugh from Banichi.
“Bren-ji. This is not a promise with a good history!”
“I am deeply appreciative of the risk to my aishid wherever I stay, but I have my pistol. I am able to defend myself at least for a moment, if you are distracted, Nichi-ji. And Cenedi would not let me defend the dowager. If he is deeply concerned, his only concern will be for her.”
“Bren-ji.” Banichi drew a breath. “You have done admirably on several occasions, but these people do not observe Guild rules. And explosives are not observant of rank.”
Mines, in other words. He had met them before, during the fighting in the south.
“I am not afraid,” he said. “Do as the situation needs you to do. We do have Lord Geigi as a resource.”
“You are not afraid,” Banichi said. It was a challenge. “This is worrisome.”
“I am not overconfident,” Bren said. “I am terrified. And I am armed.”
“We know,” Banichi said wryly, who had given him that gun, years ago.
“Lord Geigi will keep us all in contact. The dowager can make her wishes and recommendations known, and I can become useful to the effort in being
available to give those orders official endorsement. Bregani might well find himself in need of such backup, and for someone to speak for the dowager. Under this plan, leaving Lord Machigi here with the dowager is not an option; but Machigi’s presence may worry some of Lord Bregani’s associates, and I can, in all modesty, have some influence in that regard. I am useful to his situation, and certainly of more use there than shadowing the dowager about aboard the train.”
Banichi was not entirely happy. But he nodded. “I shall present the idea to Cenedi.”
“Good,” Bren said. He had a gun. He had shot a man. Arguing to put himself in Bregani’s residency, a concern on Banichi’s mind, was like that, a decision under dreadful circumstances, and with farther-reaching consequences if he chose wrong. But useless as he might be in a fight, he was a major asset in Bregani’s situation, in arguing Bregani’s case for alliance with the dowager.
And Bregani had a valid point: acting as if he were a prisoner of the dowager and staying on the train was not the best idea. Bregani had to be seen to be in charge, giving orders, in his own capital.
Second point that had to be made: that Bregani was in fact in charge of the Guild force presently in the city. Senjin alone had not been able to deal with Tiajo, but Senjin with the Guild was another matter. It was here, and technically operating under Bregani’s orders, not the dowager’s, a point which Bregani needed to make clear.
Lord Machigi—well, at least his presence would shock the locals, and maybe it could be shown as another indication of change. Taking him was certainly more politic than having Cenedi lock the passageways and seal him at the other end of the train.
Something resounded off the wall. Several such. He looked instinctively toward the outside wall. But there was no sign of a problem.
It had gotten his aishid’s attention. Tano and Jago, poring over the map, had looked up.
“The opposition,” Algini said dryly, appearing behind him, “is testing our armor. They believe the windows outside are real. And they know the first train brought the Guild in. They are not happy to see another. Our mobile escort has had to leave us. We have put an officer with the advanced communications up with the engineer.”
Divergence Page 19
