Betrayer: Foreigner #12

by C. J. Cherryh

  The bus was out there, an amazing apparition, its shiny red sides dusty but looking undamaged and without bullet holes.

  Everybody crowded toward the door. Cajeiri took the chance and got a view, but he did not tempt mani’s wrath by going outside.

  And then the bus doors opened, and first down the steps came Barb-daja, her bright curls loose and bobbing. She was wearing the same red-brown atevi-style gown, looking very bedraggled, but heading for the house doors on her own and in a hurry.

  She came inside. Her face looked different, paler than usual, exhausted and a little desperate as she looked around the gathering in the hall.

  Her eyes lit on him and locked. On him, not Cenedi—and she went straight to him and took him by the arms—startling him and Antaro. “Nandi. Where’s Toby? Is Toby all right?”

  “Yes, Barb-daja,” he said in ship-speak. Him. Who was the only one here who really could understand her. Her eyes were watering. She looked older and so, so desperate. “But my great-grandmother will want to see you first,” he warned her. It was not politely put, but she absolutely had to call on Great-grandmother or be rude, no matter how desperate she was, and Barb-daja was sometimes rude, and he did not want her to have trouble from it.

  Except now she looked as if she might collapse in the middle of the floor. She was a tiny person, even to him, and her eyes kept darting about, looking, he suddenly realized, for nand’ Toby among the bystanders. And she had hold of him, which was not good manners in front of the servants, but Barb-daja probably had forgotten that. “Cenedi-nadi,” Cajeiri said to Great-grandmother’s chief of security, “does my great-grandmother wish to speak to Barb-daja right away?”

  Cenedi nodded politely. “She will wish to do so. Ask the lady, nandi, about nand’ Bren.”

  “How is nand’ Bren, nandi?” Cajeiri asked in greatest courtesy.

  “He was fine. Well, he wasn’t. He was shot. Only he had the vest on.” Barb-daja’s eyes poured wet trails down her face and her voice shook, but she was trying to be helpful and proper. “His guard is with him. They all seem all right. Bren’s talking to Machigi—he’s talked to him quite a lot. We were having—we were having to live in his apartment, all crowded in. And the other guards were all stuck on the bus, and that was getting pretty bad down there. But Bren sent everybody back to Targai. And Lord Geigi said—” Lord Geigi was very fluent in ship-speak. “Lord Geigi—I talked to him while they were topping off the bus. He said Toby was going to be all right. He said everything was all right at Targai, too, and he gave me a letter—”

  She pulled it out of her sleeve, a flattened roll of paper instead of a little message cylinder. Her hand shook as she offered it, and Cenedi promptly took it.

  “Do you think Bren’s all right where he is?” Barb-daja asked. “His bodyguard—they’re carrying their guns and they have a nice suite, all to themselves. Geigi said—Geigi put us on the bus. Bren’s people at Targai wanted to stay and wait for him, or something about that, but Geigi insisted they come back here. So they came back with us.”

  Some of nand’ Bren’s domestic staff had gone to Targai with him, staying there when nand’ Bren had gone out in the bus looking for Barb. And now they had come back with the bus. Cenedi was going to want to talk to them about the situation at Targai.

  And Barb was going to have to talk to mani, and then he was going to be relieved of his duty with nand’ Toby.

  And then he was going to have to figure out what to do with Veijico, who had come in and was standing very quietly near the door.

  But he supposed Cenedi would want to talk to her first. There were a lot of people on that bus who had been in a position to know things that Cenedi would want to know—and Veijico would be one of them. She might be in a lot of trouble, but she was also Guild, and she would have kept her eyes open. She had been with Bren in Tanaja, and he was sure she would give a clearer report than Barb-daja.

  So all of a sudden there was all kinds of information, but none of it was in his reach,except the very welcome report that nand’ Bren was not being held in a basement and that his bodyguard was still armed.

  And nand’ Toby was going to be hearing the coming and going and asking questions Jegari could not understand, let alone answer.

  He was thinking that when Great-grandmother’s door opened just down the hall. One of Great-grandmother’s young men came out, and then, with another of her young men in close attendance, Great-grandmother herself came out to meet Barb-daja. It was a very great courtesy to Barb-daja—but it was mostly, Cajeiri thought, because Great-grandmother wanted news faster than it was coming, even with Guild talking to Guild, short-range. Once Great-grandmother was sure that Barb really had shown up on the bus, Great-grandmother would want to know how she was and what she knew, and some of it would have flown right to her bodyguard and to her, but she wanted to see Barb-daja for herself.

  Great-grandmother came down the hall, tap-tapping with her dreadful cane. She was dressed in black—she usually was—and with very little lace and very little jewelry today. She came right up to them, and Cajeiri said to Barb-daja, under his breath, “Bow. Bow lower.”

  Barb-daja bowed. Great-grandmother, like Cenedi, understood a little ship-speak, but she was the last person who would ever admit it.

  Great-grandmother politely bowed her head ever so slightly and flicked a glance at Cajeiri. “She seems healthy enough. We are glad to see that.”

  Great-grandmother wanted information, a lot of it, and fast. That was as direct a question as Barb-daja was likely to get, and Cajeiri had no idea how to make her understand that. Cenedi-nadi said:

  “Nand’ Bren seems at some liberty in the premises, aiji-ma. One of your grandson’s men has arrived on the bus to report. We have this young person.” He meant Veijico. “And we have the paidhi’s staff who have just come in from Targai. We will debrief everyone in order.”

  Great-grandmother frowned and stamped her cane on the stone floor. “We should do it in some hurry, since we have no knowledge on which to make decisions. Divide into teams and debrief everyone at once.”

  “Yes,” Cenedi said. And Great-grandmother swept a stern glance right toward Cajeiri.

  “Barb-daja will talk to nand’ Toby. Take her there, young gentleman. Stay there and pay attention to what she says.”

  The Guild was talking to everybody else and getting information as fast as they could. And if Great-grandmother could take Barb-daja into her sitting-room and get everything she knew in good order, Great-grandmother would be doing that, but she was right: Barb-daja would tell everything to Toby.

  So he had an important part in things. “Yes, mani-ma,” he said with a quick little bow, and said, “Barb-daja, Great-grandmother says go downstairs. Nand’ Toby wants to see you.”

  “Toby,” she said, and forgot to bow to Great-grandmother, then remembered and halfway did, and headed for the dining room hall at a near run.

  She startled mani’s guard—but not him. He bowed for both of them and started to follow her.

  And happened to catch a look from Veijico, who was upset and let it show. The look was directed at him. Worried. Unhappy, maybe, that he had not really looked at her or made a fuss about her safe return.

  Well, she had reason to be upset about that. But so did he, considering everything was her fault. He was responsible for her. More, Veijico was about to be in a lot of trouble with Cenedi, who was very senior Guild, and if there was a rule Veijico had missed breaking, as Jago would put it—one hardly knew what that was.

  Definitely she hoped he might stand up for her. But she had hardly deserved it.

  And Great-grandmother had just given him a direct order, and Barb-daja was already headed down the back stairs.

  He went after Barb-daja, with Antaro close on his heels. He ran the steps to catch up and was with Barb-daja as she reached the basement hall.

  She had no idea where she was going. “This way,” he said and walked with her down to the corner and to nand’ Toby
’s room. He opened the door himself, and Barb-daja shoved past him, intent on Toby, who, it turned out, was sleeping—the painkillers made sure he did a lot of that. Jegari got up, looking shocked.

  Cajeiri signed it was all right and stood by the door watching and listening, as mani had told him to do.

  “Toby?” Barb said, sitting on the bed and patting his face. “Toby?”

  And Toby waked up and saw her. “Barb,” he said, sounding confused and sleepy. Then: “Oh, my God. Barb!”

  Barb-daja laughed in a funny way, and kissed him, and when she sat back, Toby took hold and brought her hand to his lips, which was sort of embarrassing. But mani said listen. “Barb,” Toby said, really awake, now. “Barb, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Barb starting crying and wiping her eyes with her fingers. “I was so scared. ”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she said, gulping air. “No. Veijico rescued me.”

  “Veijico.”

  “She shot them. And then both of us got caught by Machigi’s people. And then Bren—Bren got us sent to him. He’s there. With Lord Machigi.”

  There was no way to stop her. Now Toby knew.

  “He’s one of the bad guys,” Barb said. “Isn’t he?”

  “A very bad guy,” Toby said faintly. “What in hell is Bren doing there?”

  “He’s talking to Machigi. I don’t know what all about. But his bodyguard is with him. They all have their guns. He seems to be getting along all right.”

  “God.” Toby raked a hand through his hair, and propped his head up higher, to look at her. “In the Marid? Is he in the Marid?”

  “In Tanaja.”

  “And you were there?”

  “I was there.”

  Toby moved his hand and let his head fall back.

  “I remember—” Toby said, staring at the ceiling. “I remember people on the walk, in the dark. You were up there—by the house . . .”

  Nand’ Toby’s memory was not very good for that whole hour. He’d been shot, bleeding all over the walk, and when Barb-daja had run up the walk to get help, kidnappers had carried her off. Cajeiri knew that part all too well. He’d run into Veijico and her partner Lucasi at that point, and he told them—

  He had told them to help Barb-daja.

  He remembered that part now. It upset his stomach.

  He had told them to go after her.

  And Veijico and Lucasi had done exactly that. They had not been smart about it. They had gone off on their own without linking up with other Guild. They’d tracked the kidnappers clear out of Najida’s territory, clear out of Sarini Province.

  But they had done what he told them to do.

  “I don’t remember much,” Barb was saying, sniffing and wiping her nose, “except these people. Guild. They were so strong—I couldn’t do anything. We were running through brush, they carried me as if I were just nothing, and they got in a truck, like a workman’s truck, and threw me in the back of it, and they just drove off down the road. I think—I think we went east. I’m not sure. At some point I know we did.”

  Nand’ Toby moved to sit up, and Barb-daja moved to stop him.

  “No, it’s fine,” nand’ Toby said. “I’m doing pretty well now. Considering. I’m up walking some.”

  “Where were you hit?”

  Nand’ Toby put a hand toward his ribs, where he still had bandages, but no more tubes. “Not too sore. Stitches. Lot of bruises from falling down the damn steps. Bren—Bren went looking for you. And he promised me he’d bring you back. I didn’t know he’d follow you clear to Tanaja.”

  “He’s staying there. He says he has business. He’s still negotiating with Machigi. I don’t know what about.”

  “There’s a long list. Damn. But he got you out.”

  “Me. Veijico. A whole busload of Tabini’s people.”

  “In Tanaja?”

  “They were. They came in with Bren.”

  That confused nand’ Toby. “Tabini’s people.”

  “I’m sure they were. They came back as far as Targai and Lord Geigi.”

  “He’s there.” Toby rubbed his forehead. “But Bren’s in Tanaja. Since when?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s fine.” A little wobble crept into Barb’s voice. Toby looked at her from under his hand.

  “How fine, Barb?”

  “He’s all right. He—he had a kind of an accident. Not in Tanaja. He’s sore. But he’s getting around all right. And he’s working, he says.”

  “Working.”

  “It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all after I got there. They were taking good care of us.” Her voice went thin. “But I didn’t have my makeup. I just had what I’m wearing. I’m just a mess.”

  “Barb. You’re beautiful. How did Bren get there? Did the aiji send him?”

  “I don’t know. He came with a busload of Guild, but they wouldn’t get off the bus. They stayed parked in the driveway, out front of this house, or palace, or whatever that place is, and Bren’s in a really nice suite, very fancy. Veijico and I stayed in the sitting room. Bren kind of needed his bed. He’s pretty sore. And he was talking with Machigi, long sessions. I couldn’t understand much of it. I hit my head.” Barb put a hand on the back of her skull. “When I first saw him. It was my mistake, not his. And Bren was—Bren was, you know, the way he is when he’s working. Dead serious. Focused. But I don’t think he’s scared. Just worried and working.”

  “Damn. Damn,” Toby said, and in Ragi, with a glance in Cajeiri’s direction. “Young gentleman?”

  That was that. Nand’ Toby knew Bren was in trouble and now nand’ Toby had figured out they’d been lying to him. Cajeiri folded his arms and fervently wished he had somewhere else to be.

  “Do you know what’s going on?”

  That was a very big question. A very scary question. But now, finally, he had to answer it and not make nand’ Toby too mad at Great-grandmother while he was doing it.

  “Great-grandmother sent him there,” he said, “because the Guild was going to kill Machigi.”

  5

  It was a quiet afternoon, at least—a small stack of atlases and a growing number of sheets of paper, with more sketched maps, sites of interest noted, and a rough list of points one wanted to make with Machigi.

  Machigi might, personally, be a scoundrel and possibly a murderer. In the cold equations of diplomacy, it didn’t matter—if greed could bring Machigi to link his self-interest to a program that would produce peace for the majority of innocent citizens.

  Let a people get their personal economic interests linked to a program, and the whole Marid would want to grow in that direction, no matter the virtue or lack of it in their leader—who, if corrupt, could be pacified with profit and if fractious, could be removed in due time. Hell—if neither side was playing fair, all right, he could cope with that. Ilisidi had put him into this situation, she’d thrown him in here with no adequate instruction, and he was going to play his own side of it and make them deal, damned if he wouldn’t.

  Old enemies could become economic allies—even real and reliable allies. A bad history ceased to matter once trade was flowing and once the merchants that stood silently behind any government, providing the money, began to see their best interests meant preservation of that agreement. A leader who wanted to take unwilling merchants to war was taking on a real problem.

  The paidhi-aiji made notes, more notes, and notes on notes. When he finally did get into his next face-to-face meeting with Machigi, he would have to function on memory. If he was going to carry his points and sell what he was offering, he had to have answers ready, not something he had to look up.

  Most of all he had to be ready to be attacked by the advisors, and he had to be quick, polite, and convincing in his answers.

  On the other side of the equation, he wished he knew more about the intricacies of interclan relations in the largest bay on the east coast. He knew ther
e were problems in the district. They hadn’t mattered because the district hadn’t mattered greatly, even in the East. Let a previously impoverished area get prosperous however, and that would roil up more trouble within the Dowager’s own territory.

  But maybe it was better if he didn’t know too . . .

  Pop.

  Boom. A vibration shuddered through the floor. A second boom shook it.

  His bodyguard, sitting about the room, had heard the first sound. At the second, they calmly and quietly got up from their chairs. Banichi, on his feet, momentarily frowned, listening to something.

  The paidhi-aiji did a lot better to stay in his chair and wait for a report or advisement from them. They were listening. They needed no questions from him.

  And there was no other such sound, but the mind scampered over and around dire possibilities. Machigi might be a scoundrel, but Machigi being assassinated somewhere downstairs entrained a whole host of unpleasant possibilities.

  Who would the successor naturally, if only publicly, blame for it?

  Them.

  And who could be the successor? Machigi was young and had no heirs, only a clutch of relatives, some of whom were in other ambitious clans. Civil war was likely.

  Or if Machigi’s guard had been responsible for those sounds from below—were they winning or losing?

  Banichi, senior of his bodyguard, was the one who would be in contact with the situation, if any one of them was.

  Jago came over quietly to his chair and said, “Best you go to your room, Bren-ji.”

  “Yes,” he said, and got up and walked with her back into his bedroom.

  Jago shut the door, brought him the damned vest and helped him put it on, then, bending, put her lips next to his ear. “You can stay here and be comfortable for now, Bren-ji. But if trouble enters, go down the hall to our room. There is a door wedge on the table next to the door. Use it.”

  He nodded, not saying a thing, not knowing who, now, could be monitoring what they said or how sensitive the pickup might be. He sat down on the side of the bed and stayed quiet, while Jago stood by the sitting room door.