“Gods below, no! This is outside the deal!”
“This is the law,” Cenedi said quietly. “The Guild will be enforcing law in the Marid, authorized by Lord Bregani, until further notice, and if you wish immunity and protection, the paidhi-aiji is telling you exactly the document you must sign.”
“You will be immune to prosecution or Guild action,” Bren said. “So you should have no fear for the past.”
“Not safe from my enemies!” Pagiti objected.
“Immunity grants you legal innocence,” Bren said. “Anyone who pursues you cannot cite past crimes. And you seem to have an aishid that you do rely on. I reiterate: to gain immunity, you must identify place, and victim, or area of activity, and approximate date, and you must name accomplices as best you can. For all named crimes, you and these several men will be clear. If you commit crimes after signing—then you will be vulnerable to prosecution. And if you wish your son—I take it there is a son in the north—to be given protection and a safe conduct south by the Guild, that can be arranged, so far as his transport here, or to some place of his choosing. Is that what you wish?”
Paigiti was breathing hard, incensed, and Husai was now safely upstairs. Paigiti looked in the direction of that vanished asset, then swung around and pointed at Nomari. “Is he innocent?” Paigiti asked, and then pointed at Machigi. “Or shall I name this person, and his crimes?”
“Name away,” Machigi said, and he and his were provocatively close. “I am immune. I have had my discussion with the Guild and the dowager. We have a fine understanding. And you could do worse right now than court my patronage and nand’ Bregani’s. We Taisigi are in a position either to make your operations difficult, or to turn you into the honest businessman you pretend to be. Honest. And an abundantly flowing source of information. That is how you play this dice-throw. Ask the paidhi-aiji. He is the only entirely honest and disinterested lord in this building!”
One was appalled. Entirely appalled. Likely, if Cenedi’s contact was open, Ilisidi might be following everything.
“Dirty human!” Paigiti said. “Thieves and pirates!”
One had to appreciate the irony.
“Honesty,” Machigi drawled in his thickest Marid accent, “is a truly frightening power. He has it. Do you dare, Giti-sa? Do you dare deal with a man who will not lie to you? He will tell the truth to you, and he will tell it to me, and to Lord Bregani and to the aiji-dowager. So get your story straight and be very honest in that list-making. You would not want to leave something out that could come back to haunt you.”
Machigi had set the proposition. It was there to use, when Paigiti looked in Bren’s direction, staring in deep anger at the pale oddity in this place.
Bren said, “I have your best interest at heart. And I assure you that the truth, on that list, will not be used against you. But anything you hide can come back and ruin you.”
“Filth!”
“Your chance at an honest life, nadi. One and one only. How much is it worth?”
“My life, when Tiajo gets wind of it!”
“Tiajo will not hold her lordship forever. In fact, she may not have it tomorrow morning. Things can change profoundly in the Dojisigin, overnight.”
That drew a stare, a long one.
“Trust me,” Bren said.
“Damn you,” Paigiti said.
“Is that your considered answer? You will reject the amnesty?”
“No!” Paigiti said, scowling. “No. Give me a place to write.”
“Make them all comfortable, nadiin,” Bren said to the Guild around them. “A table, a writing kit. Tea or wine, absolutely. Vodka. Give them every courtesy. I shall get the form of the document from Lord Bregani, and their pages may be inserts. Be sure we have them in quadruplicate.”
“I shall happily sign it as witness myself,” Machigi said, “or perhaps as principal, granted the list includes things that may involve my interests, do you think, old ally? Two for one. And I shall throw in pardons for your enterprise in Sungeni and the Dausigin as well as my own province—if they are on the list.”
“Damn you both,” was Paigiti’s response to that. “Yes. Those too.”
* * *
• • •
“How is she?” was Bren’s first question to Banichi on the way up the stairs, with Algini and Tano and Jago behind them. Machigi and his guard had gone up ahead of them. So had Nomari, with his own. Paigiti remained with Casimi, provided a conference room, with a desk, his escort, and as much alcohol as they might wish—in the interests of good memory, as Jago put it.
“Husai is coming out of it, still,” Banichi said, who had direct communication with Cenedi. “They have taken her to her own room.”
“The Guild unit who was with her . . . ?”
“They will recover, though they had the worst of it and will not be fit for duty. Siegi is sending out to a hospital for supplies. He will transfer that unit down to the train soon, where they can be treated. We think it was the same substance in both instances, but they caught the worst of it. Husai will be increasingly unclear on what happened. Eventually she will simply not remember—characteristic of this drug.”
“Tadja.”
“That is what they are calling it, whether the historic original or some modern concoction. We have seen it in the north. It is rare, it is expensive, it has some medical benefit, but the Physicians’ Guild has restricted it severely. The Guild unit that was overdosed is very fortunate not to be dead. If they had not been in reach of a medic as quickly as they were, they would have been. The kidnappers were far more careful with the daughter. Mind, Bren-ji, if ever you smell bitterfruit in the air, hold your breath and get out.”
“One hears,” Bren said. “Is it always airborne?”
“It can arrive either in tea,” Banichi said, “or airborne—tea is safer. And this is the second time we have seen it used by the Shadow Guild.”
They reached the upper floor through a scatter of staff and bystanders, residents as yet lacking a place; and passed the double doorway, where everything was under bright light, with an abundance of black uniforms. Bregani and Murai were nowhere present. One assumed they were with their daughter, and nand’ Siegi.
The dowager was likewise absent, as was Cenedi: likely she had retired to some place secure and private, one of the cleared apartments, as soon as they had brought Husai upstairs. Siegi was likely in attendance with one or the other.
Machigi and his bodyguard were at a table, in consultation, doubtless saying interesting things in the privacy of ambient noise.
Then, over by the wall, in a cluster of chairs . . . Nomari sat, arms folded, head down, with his escort. His queue trailed a sad ribbon over one shoulder. His coat was ripped at the shoulder and stained with soot and dirt, as was the rest of him. The young man looked absolutely done.
His own aishid were themselves worn and wind-blown, having been out in the streets searching for him. No discussion was going on in that group. None would be easy. Man’chi, however new and tenuous, had been grossly abused, and there was no good excuse. Cenedi was not going to be pleased with the unit. Banichi likely was not. Neither Tabini nor the dowager nor his aishid nor the Guild Council was apt to be pleased with Nomari.
Bren went to the table he had claimed earlier, with chairs that had still escaped borrowers, a great relief. He leaned on the table, preparatory to pulling his chair back—which Jago did for him.
But he glanced aside at Nomari, who was now staring off at nothing, or everything, but not talking; and against all common sense to let it go the way it would, he saw a troubled man’chi, and a team that could not be happy to have lost a young man in a guarded room.
Narani held a tea service, waiting to set it down until after Bren was seated.
Bren straightened his shoulders and said, quietly, “Take the service to Nomari’s group, Rani-ji.”
Then he followed Narani to the group by the wall, and, there being an unused chair in the vicinity, he pulled it over himself, and sat. Nomari, not totally insensible, half-rose, as did his aishid. Bren signed Nomari to sit down, at which Nomari and his aishid all settled uneasily.
“There are things to be worked out,” he said, conscious that Banichi had come over, displacing Jago, who had followed him over.
“One regrets, nadiin,” he said to the aishid, “that you had difficulty. But I am sure the candidate has expressed that. One regrets extremely. He clearly has developed certain skills at misdirection I trust he will never use on his own aishid again.”
Silence followed. Nomari looked at his hands, and at his own aishid, and never quite at Bren. “One regrets profoundly,” Nomari said. “Not the action. But your inconvenience, nadiin.”
The Guild-senior of the aishid said nothing. The members of the unit said nothing. Nomari sat in excruciating silence. Something was called for.
“I myself came to the aishidi’tat as a stranger,” Bren said. “I taxed the patience and expectations of my aishid extremely. On a certain occasion, out of regard for them, I attempted to protect one of my aishid, who informed me in no uncertain terms that she would shoot me herself if I did that again. I confess I have erred since. But I try to remember my place, and I am immeasurably grateful to them. They do not need my protection. And they are patient with me. Why did you go after Husai, nadi, without telling your aishid?”
Another lengthy silence. Nomari seemed to have something stuck in his throat.
Bren waited.
“If they had seen Guild, there would have been shooting,” Nomari said. “And I could talk to Paigiti—having that history with him. I knew where he would probably be. And I know everything rests on Lord Bregani keeping his word. I know Paigiti deals with the Dojisigi, provides routes, places, information. It is not illegal, in Senjin. It has not been illegal, at least. His dealings through me, with Lord Machigi, generally were. Illegal. All of them.”
“So you just walked out,” Banichi said, standing, arms folded.
“Nadi—nadiin, nandi, I could. I did. I could do something that needed to be done. That is the sum of it.”
“Spy,” Banichi said.
“Yes, nadi.”
“And a live spy, traveled all the way around the aishidi’tat and the Marid at will. A spy who found his way to Lord Tatiseigi, and the Bujavid, and here, out again and back, and is still alive.” Banichi’s deep voice was low and quiet, for this area alone. “You have an interesting principal, brothers, with very high professional skills, and one suggests you discuss with him the signals that should pass between you. Perhaps my partner’s promise to shoot the paidhi-aiji might make the point with the candidate, should you wish to stay with him. Something needs to be understood. Something needs to be agreed very seriously and lastingly.”
“He has been considerate of us,” Guild-senior said. “He has been too considerate throughout. And too little considerate, in this. We do not know, at this point, whether we have his respect.”
“More than respect, Barijo,” Nomari said. “My profoundest regret for causing concern and for putting you at risk.”
“Did you think we would not follow an order?”
“I have appreciated that your orders come from the aiji-dowager, nadi. I am sorry. I did not think you would regard mine.”
Guild-senior, Barijo, nodded slowly. “From Guild Council, actually. Yes, we would have restrained you unless you had an authorization. That is where you fit in the chain of command in this operation, and it might have saved a deal of worry, nadi. We erred in turning our backs for a moment. That is where we were in the process of trusting you. It was our mistake.”
Nomari lowered his gaze to his folded arms. And nodded. “I would do it again, to do what I did. But I profoundly apologize. I would ask you to stay, nadi. I would ask all of you to stay.”
“Do you need our advice?” Barijo asked. “Or will you manage without?”
“I would say I do need it, absolutely. I was in the wrong, where you are concerned. Not,” Nomari said, frowning, still looking down, “not in getting Husai out.”
Husai, was it, Bren thought, and not lord Bregani’s daughter?
“We shall discuss how that should have gone,” Barijo said.
“Will you stay, nadiin?” Nomari asked.
“Pending,” Barijo said.
“We shall leave you to that,” Bren said, pushed back from the table and stood up. “Tea, nadiin. While it is hot. Narani has brought you a pot.”
Discussion, that was to say. There were nods, respectful, silent. There was a good deal of discussion that needed to be had at that table.
For his part, standing up, Bren found the low buzz of conversation in the room surreal, and the room, familiar after so many hours, and not, likewise surreal, as if the world could waver out of reality and back. He made his way back to his table, and a place to sit and lean. Banichi sat down beside him. Tano and Jago remained standing behind him. Jeladi was ready with a cup for him, and a pour of hot tea which he was almost inclined to refuse, having had altogether too much of stimulant and sleepless hours.
But the smell was different. It was the relaxing tea Narani had made for them, herbal flavoring, a little hint of berries and star-grass. He sipped it without sugar, shut his eyes and sighed.
“So will they work it out?” Algini asked, slipping into place across the table.
“One hopes,” Banichi said. “The unit was working well with him. And trusted him too soon.”
“The lad is professional,” Algini said. “Here and not here, in the turn of a head. He learned how to read them. They will have to be careful of that.”
“No question,” Banichi said. “It is an uncommon set of skills, for a lord of the aishidi’tat. Watch that one, Bren-ji, when he has any interest in what may be going on.”
“If we can get him back alive,” Tano said, as he and Jago sat down.
“He lived through the Troubles,” Algini said. “And likely got paid by every side.”
“Oh, perhaps not that,” Tano said.
“No,” Algini said, “every side. I do not doubt he has contacts inside the Shadow Guild.”
“Likely Paigiti is close enough to that description,” Jago said. “I have no doubt he has been the Shadow Guild’s landlord in Koperna. Small wonder Nomari suspected what property they were in. And that man dares complain about his merchandise.”
“How long do you give,” Tano asked, “before Paigiti or his organization commits some crime not on his list?”
“And is back on our list of problems?” Banichi said. “I give it a few days after our departure.”
“You are ever the optimist,” Algini said.
* * *
• • •
Late, late at night, Cajeiri waked, reached up and dragged pillows into a heap under his head. The apartment was still, extremely still, not even the stir of night staff going about their tasks. It became that way at some hours, poised between last night’s settling down and the stir before next morning.
The supper table and the brandy, particularly the brandy, stayed vivid in his mind, an overpowering lot of puzzles. He had heard so many things he had never known. It was, in a strange way, like meeting his father and meeting his mother when he had come back from space, not the son they had sent away; only this was more as if his parents had been away together and never told him about it. They had shared secrets, shared opinions, made plans, and mani was not always on their side.
But really she was, and Father trusted her and Mother mostly did, at least that Mother knew mani never trusted her.
He had to work on that. Mani trusted him in most things. He could figure how to do that. Mani had accepted his human associates perfectly well. Why would she not trust Mother?
Maybe it was Father, he thought. Mani had been aiji when Great-grandfather died; and then . . . then she had turned things over to her son. Who was Grandfather. Who had not been a particularly good aiji, but he had generally let mani run things, especially outside the central aishidi’tat, so mani said.
And mani had run things after Grandfather died. He had not been all that old, but he had not been assassinated. He had done it to himself, people said, not intentionally, but because he ignored advice, drank too much and took too many pills.
People said. But there were ways it might not have been an accident. There were all sorts of people who were probably not too sorry.
And mani had been regent for Father for quite a long time, because Father had been just a little boy when Grandfather died; and mani had hidden him away in Malguri for years. Father said he had been happy in those years, a little lonely, but happy, being a boy. Sometimes mani would bring him back to Shejidan, and teach him herself. Sometimes he just had his tutors, several of them, some of them part of Malguri staff. But when he was a little older than Cajeiri was now, he had had Guild to teach him, and various people from various guilds assigned to come and teach him, so he learned a good many things that were traditional, and a good many things that were not. He had machimi—he rarely got to see them, but he read them; he learned kabiu. Father himself could arrange a bouquet, and actually enjoyed doing it, because, Father said, plants cooperated better than people.
He wished he had known Father when he was a boy. He always had thought that.
And tonight, as for some little time since events at Tirnamardi, he wished he had known Mother.
They just had not understood each other, but the more he understood Ajuri and Shishogi, and remembered his Ajuri grandfather, the more he had begun to know why she was so guarded, so private about things.
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