“What I know from Lord Tatiseigi and from the aiji-consort—I do not know if I am free to speculate on that connection, nand’ paidhi. May one at all mention the recent authority in Ajuri?”
“Geidaro, Shishogi, Komaji—Aseida, the Kadagidi,—whatever name you need. I was involved in it. Mention any name you need. And if Lord Machigi does not yet know, he should.”
“Geidaro, in Ajuri, nandiin, was still supporting the actions in the Dojisigin Marid, and before her, Shishogi. Funds, goods, support, small items easily shipped, sold high especially in Separti.”
Separti. Clear over on the west coast.
Now that, Bren thought, was a revelation. Separti township had no rail connection. The rail went from Koperna to Targai, inland, then via Najida, northward. Goods from the southern coastal townships, mostly foodstuffs and cloth, moved by sea, generally—and as he understood it, Marid ships, fishing and trade alike, did not put in at Separti: they sailed all the way to Cobo. “I am prepared to be extremely embarrassed if the connection for this illegal traffic is Najida.”
“Cobo, nandi. The port at Caigi.”
Where Mospheiran goods came in, the only allowable port for Mospheiran sea trade.
The port was, moreover, the principal port used by the traders of Ashidama Bay. It was due to expand its operations, as Tabini-aiji had agreed to allow freight landers from the space station to use the northern range. Atevi would then truck and ship goods over to Mospheira. A lot of trade was going in and out there, and it was about to add exotics and high tech from space.
“What sort of thing are they trading, nadi, that is not legal?”
“Tadja,” was the answer—an intoxicant banned from regular trade, locally grown in the south. “And antiquities from the Southern Isle.”
The Southern Isle. Ancient pottery. A single fragment of that rare blue glaze could go for an astonishing price. Significant items did turn up in the Marid, once colonies of the Southern Island, and reached the legitimate market in the north, destined for licensed collections or museums. What Nomari implied . . . was far from legitimate. The Marid was in a unique position to send illicit operations to those ancient sites, places forbidden and sacred, if that human word could translate the extreme emotional connection for those descended from the Southern Island—and most of the Marid could claim that.
If the Southern Isle was being systematically mined for antiquities and relics—it was a disgrace and a problem that some Marid folk would take very, very hard—while other Marid folk were the looters.
“Such are our secrets,” Machigi commented. “My house holds two such treasures. They are currency of a sort we never spend. The Dojisigi have far more than their share, and we suspect that store is increasing.”
One had to wonder how long that systematic looting had been going on . . . if it was, indeed, going on. Something had funded the coup that had ousted Tabini for over a year. Something still funded the Shadow Guild.
It was a serious risk to attempt the Southern Isle—treacherous currents, uncharted rocks, and storms raking that coast with very little warning, but collectors—illicit collectors—collectors who had no concern about the emotional connection of the descendants, one might even say the heirs of, those ancient artisans. . . . Such collectors might well push poor Marid fisherfolk into risking everything for a little prospecting in the ruins.
And if artifacts and relics had a ready market in Dojisigin—that trade became far, far more attractive a risk, possibly enough for Tiajo to bypass the fisherfolk altogether and send in her own people.
So Machigi had only two secret treasures, besides his beautiful porcelains. Did he hope to expand that nest egg? His expansionist notions did not come without cost.
It was not the dowager’s plan to bring space age weather science and charting to Machigi for the purpose of making the Southern Isle more accessible.
“How great a problem is it now,” Bren asked Machigi, “compared to fifty years ago?”
“Greater, as technology improves. Maps reach us. The eyes in space see detail not on our maps, and the information now available is a problem. There are some who talk about secret settlements on the Southern Island, illicit settlements dug in, and even if it is no more than speculation that they even exist, once the idea is there, and the technology permits—there will be those wanting to take that step. And once there is settlement on the Southern Island, even if there is a single well-known cluster of tents, it will upset the balance of power in the Marid, because that is the homeland and no one will accept any single clan assuming control of it. Change can come quickly down here—” Machigi checked himself, a man never before north of his homeland. “Change can come to the Marid, with a single gunshot . . . or a sudden shift in wealth. Or better ships. I am being quite frank with you, paidhi. Poverty and desperation characterize the Sungeni and the Dausigi coasts. No one would begrudge them the occasional ‘discovery’ of a family treasure; and there is, besides the looting, some market in forgeries and sometimes legitimate family heirlooms, sold in desperation. We in the Taisigin fare well enough, by the resources we have, including a large hunting reserve, and we do what we can to help our sister clans to the south, an obligation we accepted along with their man’chi. We provide food, help when a boat is lost . . . but they are a proud folk and independent, in their own way. I would not have the Sungeni and Dausigi suffer from Tiajo’s displeasure with me.”
Those small coastal clans eked out a living on the edge of the fierce Southern Ocean. They’d been the first to benefit from Machigi’s plan to unify the Marid. If their small trade in artifacts and copies had been undermined by a larger operation out of the Dojisigi, or if Tiajo was using them, pressuring them for greater and greater risk . . . no, that would not be welcome news to Machigi.
“There are very, very old quarrels that did not die with the Great Wave, nand’ paidhi. We are not Ragi. We have diverse aims, and we would not want the north except to assure it stayed out of our affairs. We have old animosities with the folk of the southwestern coast, Separti, Talidi, and Jorida, but the Maschi have been reasonable neighbors to us. Their old enemies the Farai and the Maladesi have taken up residence with Senjin, to Senjin’s sometime regret—you know that those clans are west coast clans, not native to the Marid, once possessors of your own estate, nand’ paidhi, before they fell out of favor with the Ragi clans and attached themselves to Senjin.”
“I am aware.”
“Senjin itself has been content to join with Dojisigi for the last number of decades, until Dojisigi was left with a fool in charge and northerners feeding her whatever her greed demands.”
“By northerners in this instance, nandi, you mean the Shadow Guild.”
“Exactly so. And now we have this fool child in the Dojisigin who is submitting to this splinter of a northern guild, and wasting her resources in its useless northern war, all to win what we in the Marid by no means want. You have asked me to join my bodyguard to the Guild in Shejidan—you understand, I think, my reluctance, under recent circumstances—and to accept other northern guilds, which have, in theory, certain usefulness to us. We do not, however, wish to become northerners, ourselves, or to be ruled by northern laws. But the north has changed. The dowager has broken the precedent at least of her own bodyguard submitting to Shejidani rules, and given that movement on the issue of central authority in the guilds, we are far more interested in association with the aishidi’tat. The Marid has been approached by the East, by the aiji-dowager, with a mutually beneficial proposal, and the aiji in Shejidan has allowed it to happen.” Machigi lifted his brandy glass, a small salute. “This is progress. But while alliance with the aishidi’tat may be in the future, our immediate interest, to be blunt, nand’ paidhi, is ending that Dojisigin trade with Jorida, cutting off the flow of finance to that brat in Amarja, and being rid of her enforcers, because while she sits in power, there is no peace.”
Jorida, was it now? Currently Hurshina’s little mercantile empire, a perpetual opponent to the Tribal Peoples, consisted of a pair of independent townships that had killed off their last two court appointed lords and provoked four wars with the Taisigin Marid and their associates. Tabini’s grandfather had refused to appoint a new lord over the district, Hurshina’s house being the only choice, and so old business simmered on.
Smuggling, Hurshina money, feeding the Shadow Guild?
“Have you mentioned the Dojisigi trade in artifacts to the aiji-dowager, nandi?” Certainly the dowager would hear it tomorrow morning, thanks to Guild monitoring. He was also far from sure he was not being led for Machigi’s amusement—or Machigi’s designs against the west coast—but an interest in eliminating Dojisigi as a threat fit neatly into more than one agenda.
“I have mentioned the smuggling before, in communications, yes,” Machigi said. “The old connection was by transcontinental rail, and the offloading was, presumably, somewhere north, likely in Kadagidi territory. Now, with that boil lanced—will another have arisen on Jorida? And is there the Shadow Guild presence in a township not that far south of Najida and Kajiminda? I cannot say. But it is reasonable to suspect Jorida’s trade office in Separti, which is large, and walled, might house more than clerks.”
“And does the dowager know that, nandi?”
Machigi gave one of his more enigmatic smiles. “The dowager has yet to believe it, since I am not Hurshina’s ally, nor ever will be. Whatever I say about the west coast is suspect. Suspect me as you will, but do us all a favor and also suspect Hurshina. An ally of the aiji-dowager, he is not. That much she does believe. I only suggest that he has interests in Dojisigi, not because he is generous, not even because he is a greedy, acquisitive vermin, but because he very much wants me dead. And that would greatly inconvenience her, and send the Marid up in flames.” Machigi set down his glass. “Taking your warning that the dowager rises early, I shall leave you now to rest, nand’ paidhi, trusting that the dowager will hear the reason I have for pursuing this business with Senjin at this precise moment, and that she will appreciate the true usefulness of a rail link that will absolutely outrage both Tiajo and Hurshina. Represent me well. You have done it in the past. I am sure she will see the purity of my motives. Doubt will be dangerous, where we are going.”
Machigi rose, Nomari rose politely, and Bren did. There were bows all around, and Machigi swept up his bodyguard and withdrew into the vestibule and on toward his own car, as the train racketed along.
Nomari was left behind, facing a possible conversational ambush on his own way to his car, and possibly thinking that his own evening might only be beginning.
“Nandi,” Nomari said uncomfortably.
“If you have apprehensions about the walk through his car to reach your own,” Bren said, “consider that you are here by the dowager’s invitation. If you have any concern about pressure from Lord Machigi, advise me or one of my aishid. That offer will stand throughout. As it does tonight.”
“I did not expect him,” Nomari said faintly. “I did not expect this.”
“Were you surprised by anything he said?”
“I was surprised by most everything he said. I fear I have just heard things that may threaten my life.”
“Are you capable of discretion?”
A hesitation. “I have to be. I undertake to be, nand’ paidhi. But I have yet to face the aiji-dowager’s questions. Questions from the lords in general—I am told will be forthcoming. What shall I say?”
“Nothing of what Machigi just said. That is for the dowager to explain to her grandson, and it would not be wise to undertake its interpretation in any other quarter. Is there anything you are concealing from us still?”
A second pause, a sorting, perhaps, through memories and meetings. “Nothing I can think of, nand’ paidhi, nothing of Lord Machigi’s business he ever confided in me, nothing of the nature just now. No one has told me anything beyond the tadja business, which is known to the lord of Senjin. I have been to Separti once by truck, as a courier for Senjin, but observing the lay of the land and ships in harbor for Lord Machigi. That was during the Troubles. I have been to the other township for the same reasons, I have been to Caigi, I have been to Amarja, but not deeper into the Dojisigin. I have never been to Hasjuran. I have never been in Dausigi or the Isles. I do know about the smuggling in Separti: I know goods surface there. I know there is rebel Guild in Dojisigi and I know where, but that changes.”
“Tell me this, of personal curiosity. Has Najida been used for smuggling? Or Kajiminda?”
“I know goods were traded out of Kajiminda. And up in Maschi clan, the old lord, not the new.”
No difficulty knowing that was so: Geigi’s nephew Baiji had been trading off some of Geigi’s collection; and Bren had no trouble recalling the old lord of the Maschi, the man who had shot him, an experience which still gave him a twinge or two on cold mornings. The new lord in Targai was one of his most reliable supporters, and an honest man, who might be able to say something about his predecessor’s business dealings.
“The new lord there must inconvenience the smugglers considerably.”
“He has,” Nomari said, “and he has a guard the aiji-dowager hand-picked. This I know.”
“You likely have known far more than you may think you do. Appreciate its sensitivity and observe discretion with what you know, nadi. It may prove dangerous. One believes you have unburdened yourself to Lord Tatiseigi.”
“And to the aiji-consort, nandi. I am in her debt and his.”
“And to Machigi? Will you continue to inform him?”
Slight hesitation. “There is a debt. But for him—I worked for pay.”
There was a difference, potentially.
“Nandi, in the north, I have done nothing of which I am ashamed. It was not Tabini-aiji I betrayed. It was not Lord Komaji I betrayed, either.” That was the most recent lord of Ajuri, Cajeiri’s grandfather. “My information, where I spied, where I divulged things I observed, involved specifically Lord Bregani and Lord Tiajo, and I hoped with everyone else for the return of the ship and the safety of Tabini-aiji, and if not that, then for someone to deal with the Troubles.”
That had been the legitimate hope of a lot of people, in those days, and except for Lord Geigi’s personal conviction that Tabini was alive, an aijinate might have been conducted from the space station, drastic as that would have been.
“You are not politically naive, nadi.”
“No, nandi, at least where I have direct knowledge. My life has depended on listening carefully and on keeping more secrets than I sold.”
“You left Lord Machigi—why?”
“When my guild recovered itself, nandi, when the aiji came back to power. Then I came back to the capital. But I did spy for Lord Machigi in those years. I reported what he asked, for pay. I left. There was no rancor in my leaving.”
“Did you deal with him directly?”
“Only twice, nandi.”
“Is there any reason you should be afraid of him?”
Nomari gave a short, startled laugh. “Most are. But he was safety for me.” The laughter turned to a somber look. “I am not hopeful if the aiji-dowager has some cause against me on that account.”
“Her favor is worth winning.” He said it in full knowledge that Ilisidi would hear it, and she did not like to be gossiped about. “And it is possible to win, but do not take it as granted that you have her favor now. You are here, I think, because a decision must be made regarding your candidacy, in which she has an interest; and because Machigi, with whom she has some agreement, is pressing an issue, and you have some knowledge of him as well as of the system at issue. Act for the interest you intend to serve hereafter. That is my unsolicited advice, nadi. Advise me if you find your position difficult, and I shall try to mediate. Above all, trust your bodyguard. They also have h
eard what was said here. They will advise you in your best interest.”
“Nandi.” Nomari gave a deep bow. “I appreciate all you say.”
“Good rest to you,” Bren said. He watched Nomari retreat in the direction Machigi had gone, and gather up the aishid that protected him, the four who would keep him safe during his transit through Machigi’s car . . . but not safe from any conversation Nomari chose to involve himself in, if he decided to stop and pass a little time there.
They were up to speed now, thumping along eastward before their turn south.
Toward Hasjuran. Close to a pass overhanging the Marid.
Had Ilisidi summoned Machigi to that meeting in Najida?
Had that all been a show for his benefit?
Tabini did not exclude Ilisidi from events and go scot-free. Was that it?
But then—Ilisidi, in her own two terms as aiji-regent, had viewed the west coast as her particular concern, a time bomb she viewed as a greater threat to the aishidi’tat than the perpetually restive Marid or her grandson’s fascination with human technology.
She had made an extravagant move on her own, bringing Machigi into a trade deal for which ships did not yet exist.
But had that trade package been a move on a chessboard toward something she wanted far more than a settlement with the Marid?
It was a question. It was very much a question.
13
Father would see him. Father was working in his office—he often worked in the evenings. Cajeiri came by himself, only a matter of walking down the hall, and much as his aishid might want to hear what happened—having the seniors there to overhear him when he was anxious and fearful of being stupid—was just too embarrassing. And he could not prefer his younger aishid over them, who had far more facts of the case. Father could call them if he wanted them.
But for himself, he just went down the hall in the formal dress he had chosen for his trip downstairs, knocked on the door, and identified himself.
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