But without Machigi as a distraction, at very least, they would still have to deal with Bregani, who had spent his whole lifetime working against the aishidi’dat.
Their ally was Machigi—whom nobody trusted. Whom no one should trust. A lifetime of dodging assassination from Dojisigi or Bregani or the lords of the West Coast had made him apt to turn any way he needed to turn to survive. The only thing that might keep him steady on was exactly what the dowager was doing, convincing him he might attain his ambitions and end up aiji over the whole Marid—not to the displeasure of three of the five clans—not that even the three southern clans trusted him that much, either.
If Machigi achieved power, he would almost certainly be challenged for it. Either Machigi would be able to keep them in line, or he would not—and Machigi as head of an association of all the districts might be the best answer for the Marid and for the aishidi’tat.
It was worth a deep breath and a thought that Ilisidi might indeed be doing exactly what needed to be done—fewest lives lost, greatest gain to be had; and the trap of offering too much for the Marid to lose—a region technologically behind the rest of the aishidi’tat, with increasing dependence on, as a very small item in the dowager’s plans, space-based weather reports.
Ilisidi’s East had something to win from the arrangement, too—a thinly populated region with iron and steel in abundance and a limited industry to deal with it.
That, and the dowager’s personal determination to keep a foothold in the space age without losing her region’s traditions and its independence.
That, the East had in common with the Marid . . . including its own deep-rooted contentions. And without the dowager, the same as the Marid without Machigi, things would slide back into chaos and local disagreements.
It was perhaps not the time to think of Filing on Machigi, whose ambitions toward the west coast had been a problem. Machigi did not abuse his people and he took care of his southern allies. There was that to recommend him. He had listened to a proposition for change. He was interested when a change seemed to benefit the Taisigin.
But, damn, the man worried him.
He’d never met the like on the Mospheiran side of the strait, but he had on the mainland . . . the first time he’d walked into Tabini’s office . . . and found himself encouraged—expected, even—not only to speak, but to speak freely. That had been a critical time in his life. His apprehension of irreversible consequences in Mospheira’s relations with atevi, the foreignness of all his emotional supports, and his doubts about the whole philosophy of the department that had sent him—all had had him living in fear that some single mistake could start a war. And his department back on Mospheira had tried its best to toss him out of office—
He’d survived that crisis because Tabini had outright insisted on having him back. But Tabini could still confound his expectations and set the ground quaking under him. So could the dowager.
So, also, did Machigi, on a continuing basis. And because Machigi’s aims were differently centered than Tabini’s—Machigi being of a different culture, a different region, and a separate history, Machigi’s intentions were a constant worry.
He was not sure he could maneuver the two forces into peaceful cooperation. He did not, in his less certain moments, even understand why Tabini and the dowager thought he could.
And then there were moments just as worrisome, when he began to think of how he could, and what that direction ought to be.
He might be dangerous. They might be mistaken to trust him.
He still—had to think of ways. Feel his way through. Trust his interpretations of motive, and come out with an answer.
Damned scary, was what it was. But the dowager, who could feel the push and pull of atevi emotion, wanted him involved.
Why kept him awake far too late.
20
Tano and Algini were still asleep, having been up half the night in conference with the other aishidi—excepting Machigi’s. It was eggs and breakfast biscuit, nothing fancy, but after last night’s excess of roast and pastry, modest fare was welcome. Bren had one, and a cup of black tea, and watched Banichi and Jago take care of the rest of the supply.
“There might be more biscuits,” he said.
“Perhaps,” Banichi said. “Do you want another?”
“Not I,” Bren said. “I shall probably not want lunch. Was there any of the dinner sent back with us?”
“Guild respectfully declined the offer,” Banichi said. “We are not being reckless, even if our principals are obliged to be. Cenedi was not pleased with the entire concept of the outing, let alone the dinner, but it was the dowager’s insistence to arrive with a very short notice, defy the risk and satisfy social niceties, Lord Topari’s anxiety being what it often is. Now he is pacified, it is the current plan that we shall sit on the train, amply supplied with food and drink, and conduct delicate negotiations here, such as we may arrange, without the need to run risks outside.”
Lord Bregani had boarded the train down in Koperna. That information had come in the small hours of the night, by the alternate system, but other information was scant, save that the Red Train had completed a turnaround in Koperna last night and was on its way back up the grade, on the priority that let the Red Train violate the normal Transportation Guild rules for anything coming up the grade.
But what Bregani’s compliance in coming up here meant, whether it was to deliver an ultimatum or to get out of Tiajo’s reach, was still a question. They at least had him—and he had the dowager’s specific promise of safe conduct.
“Which will be honored,” Banichi said, after rising to ask Narani for more biscuits, too much of concern to anyone not involved in operations, except to say they had set up several points of surveillance outside, and received information that the train that had preceded them to Hasjuran was also in Koperna, on a siding, and waited, presumably, where it could turn around. Traffic would be stalled there, pending turnaround, with delay on the entire rail system between Najida and Koperna, which was a smaller traffic than the northern lines, but not insignificant.
“We are expanding electronic surveillance outside,” Jago said, as more biscuits arrived, “so we have eyes on the entire platform, and the tracks beside us. It is normally a trafficked area. We have posted signs and tape requesting a safe perimeter for the train from workers as well as onlookers, and thus far people—even the young ones, thanks to local Transportation workers—have been very cooperative. They have set up an alternate shipping office in the city administration building—people are becoming concerned about priority, granted the time we shall have the station shut down is uncertain. Topari himself is asking questions to which we have no answers.”
“If you can take a quiet day to rest, nadiin-ji, do. Whatever the train brings us—is likely to mean long hours after it gets here.”
“We are alternating shifts with Tano and Algini, and with Cenedi’s team, taking rests, yes. Granted you yourself will be so sensible, Bren-ji.”
“I shall. I promise.”
They were not what one might call safe where they sat. Hasjuran was not what one might call a well-ordered clan, with its several questionable subclans—still weather-delayed, one supposed, an absence not regretted. In Hasjuran, everyone knew everyone and rumors were certainly flying—the Red Train and its odd behavior possibly presaging things of advantage, but little as the remote rural places had to do with Shejidan ordinarily, people had to be a little worried. If things unknown to them were running well, could the dowager’s visit improve on that? And if they were not, were they about to find it out?
One could certainly understand the township in that regard. Topari had to be in a dither, unable to answer questions, but willing, he so wanted to make it clear. However things turned out, Topari was obliged to be on the dowager’s side, as the only protection he was apt to find, being the border facing the uneasy south. He
was defended, but mostly by the sheer inconvenience of the upward grade, and the avalanche danger on trails—simple trails, nothing so dependable as roads—that connected the high country villages. Some did lead down to—or up from—the Marid. But winter was coming, when those routes were, one understood, not reliable. Pack animals were how any quantity of goods moved on the high trails. Self-sufficiency was more than a virtue in such villages: it was a mode of survival.
And politics? One could not think the connection of villages to the aishidi’tat was that strong, when survival was at stake, and Lord Topari was not the most charismatic of lords—a decent lord, but that was probably true of a long succession of lords in a province united only by a common threat of the elements and trails that might or might not allow a message to reach their own lord. They were ethnically Sogi, not Ragi, nor Maridi—not that tied to either: research indicated such.
Satellite access could indeed change the relationship. But it had not, yet.
And here they sat, one Ragi-clan authority in a border clan train depot, waiting for a contact with the Marid, with awareness of what was going on depending ultimately on a new satellite—and Machigi’s truthfulness.
* * *
• • •
A little note-taking. And a nap, making up for last night. There was nothing to see, nothing to do. No trains passed. The system was not allowing trains to pass them. Even footsteps were rare, slight vibration as one of his own aishid moved about, and twice, as someone came through the passageway of his car, probably one of Ilisidi’s young men on an errand up to the Guild station.
Anxiety had moments of outright boredom—scarcity of information. And considering the scarcity—
“Ask Nomari-nadi to tea,” Bren said to Jeladi. “Tell him—if convenient. There is no crisis.”
One had little doubt it would be convenient. He summoned what he knew of the young man, the story as he had had it from Ilisidi, and what he knew from Tabini, and he was not surprised when, very quickly, Jeladi was back with the Ajuri candidate and two of his assigned bodyguard.
“Nandi,” Nomari said. “You wished to see me.”
“Politely so,” Bren said. “Will you sit? I can offer tea.”
“Yes,” Nomari said, the unadorned yes of a young man accustomed to being under orders, and sat down opposite him at the table.
“Nothing formal,” Bren said. “Ladi-ji, I believe we are affirmative on the tea.—I am curious,” he began, directing Nomari to the seat opposite him at the little table, “though you say you are not familiar with Hasjuran, whether you have traveled through the area.”
“Once, nandi, only passing through.”
“So you have been to Hasjuran.”
“I understood the intent of the question to be whether I knew Hasjuran, nandi, and I do not. I have never been off the train. We were workers in transit.”
“A check of records did not turn up that transfer,” Bren said.
“Not under my real name, nandi.”
“Do you recall the name you used?”
“Padiro.”
“A west coast name.”
“Yes. I had his papers.”
“One assumes the Padiro of wherever he was from—was deceased?”
“Yes, nandi.”
“But why not tell us the fact?”
“Because—because it led to other connections, nandi, and I honestly do not remember all of them. I remember going down the grade. That is clear in my mind. But other parts of it, some of the first days in Koperna, are hazy.”
“You were, then, traveling in other than luxury.”
“It was not luxury, nandi, and I did not have a work pass, and two trying to make that trip—froze to death. Those names—also—I used.”
It was certainly not a happy account. And tea arrived. “Nadi,” Bren said, while Jeladi arranged and poured, “I have no wish to rouse such memories. Especially over tea. Please. Tell me happier things. You met the aiji’s son at Tirnamardi, and he reports well of you.”
“I am grateful for his good opinion, nandi. He is a remarkable young man. He truly is.”
“I think so,” Bren said, and drank a sip. “Quick. And fairly perceptive, for his age, and above it. That you have his good opinion and nand’ Tatiseigi’s informs me a great deal and makes the aiji-dowager curious.”
“I should like her to know,” Nomari said, “that I am grateful for her personal interest, and understand completely her reserve. And yours, nandi. The only proof I have of who I am is in my veins, and the Guild has asked me to provide that—they say there is a way to tell.”
“There is. And they will. But I care less for that, frankly, nadi, than I do your intelligence, your good will, your honesty, and the fact that, as I hear, the element Shishogi drove out of Ajuri believes you. Are you sure of the people that support you?”
“Nandi, these people moved me about, enabled me to change identities, kept me ahead of the enforcers—they saved my life.”
“As did Lord Machigi.”
“He said we had a common problem.”
“Did you tell him who you were?”
“No, nandi. I told him I was Ajuri, and that I had fled the clan. That was true of hundreds. I told him I was clever at going here and there. I told him things he wanted to know about Senjin. I kept him informed on cargoes. I did a few things—destructive in nature.”
“Sabotage.” It was an uncommon subject, over tea. But Nomari was, in recent life, not accustomed to social amenities.
“Yes, nandi.”
“In his service.”
“Yes, nandi.”
“Well,” Bren said, “and you are prepared, are you, to take up the lordship of Ajuri? Does it worry you, considering its history?”
“I am advised by the Guild, nandi, to govern from a distance until they can be sure of the house at Ajiden. And I have been advised by the aiji-consort and Lord Tatiseigi to listen to the Guild. I am not foolishly proud. I am, gods know, not proud, and not inclined to risk others’ lives if I can make their job easier by using good sense.”
“Your bodyguard will appreciate that, nadi. My own has told me bluntly that I can be a fool. I try not to be.”
Nomari looked uncertain it was at all humor. At which Bren laughed softly. “I am not your enemy, nadi, nor inclined to be. I shall be asked my impression. It is not at all a bad one.”
“I shall be grateful, nandi.”
“Have you had lunch?”
“I have not, nandi.”
“Then let us go beyond the tea. We have a store of breakfast biscuits. Filled biscuits. Will that please you? Or we can appeal to the galley.”
“I would be perfectly content with a biscuit, nandi.”
“Well, then,” Bren said, and signaled Jeladi and Narani.
Tano and Algini were up and about, between his car and the next, and with Narani and Jeladi on duty, and two of Nomari’s Guild-appointed bodyguard in the corridor outside, they were alone without being alone, in atevi convention. They shared the light lunch with lighter questions—such as the railroad yard down in Koperna, and what shipments normally went up the grade to Hasjuran.
“Primarily fish,” was the answer, “and seaweed used for various purposes, salt, sometimes, a variety of materials. Speed is impossible coming up and a mortal danger coming down.”
“Passengers?”
A frown. “During the Troubles, many.”
“To or from?”
“Both. It was a quieter route and less exposed to trouble than the west coast.”
The regular Guild had held out on the coast, and conducted operations against the upstart regime. It made sense that travelers loyal to the Shadow Guild would choose the route through Hasjuran, however uncomfortable that descent and climb must be.
“Were there particular contacts for the Shadow Guild
in Hasjuran?” It was, given their location, a critical question, and one he was sure had been asked before they came here.
“I do not know, nandi. My operations were all in the western Marid.”
Here they were, improperly discussing serious business over lunch. “Forgive me,” Bren said, laying down his fork. “I have strayed into business, and Guild business at that.”
Nomari likewise set down his fork and took a sip of tea. “I only wish I could answer your questions, nandi. I have no personal knowledge, but by all I knew, this was just a route and the trains scarcely stopped. That there were agents for the regime coming through here goes without saying. My own contacts, mostly Ajuri, knew other Ajuri; and Kadagidi who were indeed settled here. I knew several of them—but they are now dead.”
“At your arranging?”
“I may have taken one life, nandi, but that was not by intent. Sabotage—that, yes, to that, I do confess. I have confessed it, to the Guild.”
“An end of such topics, then. Tell me something lighter. How are you faring, since your nomination? Have you had to deal with legislators?”
“No.” Nomari visibly relaxed. “Not yet. But I know I shall.”
“Do you look to see your nomination go through?”
“One has no idea, nandi. I know that if it does not, Ajuri is likely to stay vacant, and I know the Guild is still searching the basement for records. And while they are there nothing untoward will happen. Or is likely to happen. I suppose if I am not approved, that they will stay there indefinitely, and put the clan under an ongoing inquiry, the same as Kadagidi.”
“But you intend more for Ajuri.”
“I would like to see people come home, nandi. I would like to have proper Guild there, digging into whatever they need to find, and names named and innocent names cleared on clan records, among them my own household. I would start there.”
“And for the future?”
“Cooperation with Ajuri’s neighbors. Excluding Kadagidi, until it rights itself. If it will.”
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