Deceiver: Foreigner #11

by C. J. Cherryh

  At the rear of the bus. It was not better shielded back there. It was not the potential for gunfire that Algini meant, not so, if he was to be leaving Geigi behind. It had to be informational, a consultation waiting for him back there.

  He got up and quietly walked down the aisle to the vicinity of the several strangers who had boarded with them. Algini was right behind him, and so, he saw, turning, was the rest of his aishid.

  Which had to alarm Geigi’s bodyguard. He cast a look back down the aisle and saw none of that lot stirring.

  The next glance was for Algini, who said, in a low voice, “The aiji has Filed, Bren-ji. Word has just now come through.”

  “Filed.”

  “On Pairuti, on Machigi, on every lord of the Marid.”

  “One believes,” Jago added dryly, “that the Farai will be quitting your apartment tonight.”

  The strangers near them could hear, surely. So could the domestics sitting nearby, and several of the dowager’s guard.

  “Lord Geigi—should not know this, nandiin-ji?”

  “His bodyguard, nandi, is simultaneously receiving the same information,” Tano said.

  Then a glimmering of the reason came through. But he was not sure. “But Lord Geigi—”

  “His honor and his position,” Banichi said, “would require he advise Pairuti, Bren-ji. His bodyguard need not do so. They will not advise him.”

  “One understands, then.” He almost wished he had stayed ignorant. Far better, indeed, if Geigi were not put in a delicate position. His own, human, sense of honor was hard-put with the information—how to approach Pairuti with apparent clear conscience—how to walk into that hall and betray nothing. It was not fair play. It was not honest. It was not—

  It was not easy for his aishid, either, to breach Guild secrecy and bring their lord in on the facts—on Tabini-aiji’s business. He had no good instinct for what had moved them to do so, except that, he, more than Geigi, was adjunct to Tabini-aiji. Hell. He needed to understand that point.

  “Why have you told me, nadiin-ji?” he asked outright.

  “Tabini-aiji has specified you may be advised, nandi,” Algini said. “But that Geigi should not be.”

  Use his head, then. That was what Tabini expected of the paidhi-aiji. Function in his official capacity. Think his way through. Advise the Guild, for God’s sake . . . nobody advised the Guild, except he had Banichi and Jago in his aishid, who had been Tabini’s; and Algini, who had been the Guild’s; and God knew what Tano had been, or why he had come in attached to Algini. His brain raced, finding connections, finding his own staff was a peculiar hybrid of high-level interests and that there was a reason his bodyguard told him things.

  The west coast was a damned mess, was what. The dowager hadn’t meant to get involved out here. She’d been on her way back to the East to spend a quiet spring. Tabini hadn’t intended to have his son come out here . . .

  “Is the aiji protecting Najida?”

  A nod from Jago. “Yes. Definitely.”

  “And these four, with us?”

  “Specialists,” Algini said.

  Don’t ask, then. He didn’t.

  But Algini said, further, “There are many more moving in, from all directions.”

  Bren cast an involuntary glance at the windows. There was only rolling meadow. But they were not alone. Out in that landscape forces were moving, major forces . . . and he had told Toby they would get Barb back. He had believed it when he said it. But the operation had just mutated. Tabini-aiji was backing them, all right, but suddenly the dowager’s phone calls to Shejidan and the Filing all made one piece of cloth. Tabini had behaved for months as if exile might have changed him, made him more timid, more willing to ignore longstanding situations, anything to avoid another conflict that might destabilize the government.

  Negotiating with the Farai, who had occupied the paidhi-aiji’s apartment and refused all hints they should quit the premises.

  Negotiating with Machigi over old issues, as Machigi rose to power over the dead bodies of certain relatives who had supported the usurper Murini . . .

  All leading to this.

  Suddenly the argument between the dowager and Tabini about the Edi assumed a wholly different character. Reshaping the balance of power on the coast, hell! Reshaping the entire western half of the aishidi’tat, was what. Tabini had had an operation underway and Ilisidi had moved right into the middle of it with her agenda.

  And co-opted the paidhi-aiji into it.

  He felt a little sick at his stomach. He looked at four faces gone utterly solemn, four close associates who absolutely understood how the game had changed—and changed in ways that profoundly affected the mixed company on this bus.

  “Indeed,” he said, “I see.” Pairuti, like Geigi, had no children. Baiji was, in fact, the governing line’s main hope in that regard. So there was no family to get swept up into the order, but—“Is there a chance, still, nadiin-ji, that we can still go through with our plan and give Lord Pairuti the chance to resign?”

  Banichi, Jago, and Tano all looked to Algini for that one. And Algini frowned.

  “The order is without prejudice,” Algini said, “regarding his situation. He is given that latitude.”

  “Is he viewed as complicitous, Gini-ji?” Bren said.

  “As having cooperated with the Marid during the Troubles, nandi,” Algini said. “Complicitous to that extent.”

  “Many did,” Bren said. “There is that extenuation. The demise of Lord Geigi’s sister, however—”

  “He is not faulted in that,” Algini said.

  “Can we give him at least the chance, then?” Bren said. He had never participated in an assassination order. He had the most extreme qualms, even to the extent he wanted to order his own aishid to hang back and not get involved. “Nadiin-ji, the paidhi-aiji is neutral. I am an intercessor, not—not the lord of Najida, in this matter. But one cannot jeopardize the mission, either, to the aiji’s detriment—or to the risk of his agents. One finds oneself in a most uncomfortable position.”

  Banichi said. “We should take the house. That must be done, efficiently and completely, Bren-ji. If you say preserve him, we shall do that.”

  “If,” Bren said uneasily, “if you can do it without risk to yourselves.” He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his hand. “This is why the Guild has a policy against involving outsiders, is it not, nadiin-ji? I am a fool. Forget everything I have said. I withdraw my statements. I place no such restriction or request. My intercession should have been with Tabini-aiji, not with Guild assigned to carry out his decision.”

  “Yet Lord Pairuti could provide useful information,” Banichi said. “It is not an unwise choice, Bren-ji. But the decision must be politically supported. That is not our decision. If you say help him live, we can do that.”

  “What does Lord Geigi’s aishid say?”

  “They are willing to go in and to take down the lord,” Jago said. “But they are not current with technology down here. It would be a risk we would not wish them to run. And they may have a personal connection with members of the household. That is another risk.”

  “We and the dowager’s men can take the house,” Banichi said. “We have no question.”

  “The aiji’s men . . .” Bren began.

  “We do not discuss that, Bren-ji,” Jago said—which told the story. They were undiscussable and they were going to vanish at some critical point. It took no great wit to know they were going overland and across the local border, and in what direction, and why they were not lingering to assist his operation.

  Bren absorbed that information, and Jago said, further: “There are others. Many others.”

  So that was how they were staying current with the situation. Relays—possibly something set up on Maschi land . . . and there were Guild out there—many others, Jago said, moving by stealth. Bren cast a look forward, where Geigi and his aishid sat—the bodyguard reading or with heads together in converse, Geigi still s
eeming to be asleep.

  And one could not leave hanging the question of what to do with Lord Pairuti.

  And one could not ask Geigi, either, nor get any useful opinion from Lord Geigi’s bodyguard.

  Though one had this most uneasy notion that Geigi’s drowsiness might not be due to the schedule they had kept—that Geigi might be far more aware of things than he wanted to be, and intended to minimize what he did know.

  The paidhi-aiji could have done the same thing—sit still while his bodyguard arranged things.

  But his aishid had outright invited him into it—which meant, he thought, that they wanted him to make the political decision on what was left vague in their orders.

  He went back to his seat. His aishid settled around him. Lord Geigi stirred somewhat, but never opened his eyes.

  They sat, on a bus rolling along toward a major problem, and stayed in silence for a while, in a landscape no longer even relatively safe.

  God, he had promised Toby. He had promised and offered assurances he had thought were reasonable, knowing the way political kidnappings usually ran, and now Barb’s safety was nowhere assured in this. A whole quarter of the aishidi’tat was about to go up in major hostilities. Tabini was using their visit to the Maschi as cover for the wholesale movement of major forces . . . to attack the Marid in what amounted to war.

  It was Tabini’s right to do it to them, and Tabini would naturally regret doing it—but—

  Damn!

  There might be villages deeper in the folded hills; they likely were numerous, with market roads leading elsewhere. This road bore an overgrowth of brush, opportunistic plants that sprang up in the clear spot a road made . . . indicative of a road unused for a space of time.

  Except that this growth of brush had been broken down by a recent passage that might or might not be intermittent trips to the Separti road. One rather thought of the appearance of Marid Guild turning up at Kajiminda, and then at Najida, and Marid cells in Separti and Dalaigi.

  Tabini’s reinforcements would have gotten ahead of them, clearing out any ambush. He had to rely on that.

  One had no idea what they might arrive to find at Pairuti’s estate, Targai: the place in a shambles, or standing pristine and only this morning in reception of an official notice that there would be assassination attempts, an endless succession of them until one succeeded or until the contract was set aside. The Maschi were of course entitled to send their Guild members to assassinate the aiji without legal consequence, but it would be an enterprise little likely to succeed: the odds were somewhat lopsided.

  The official notification of the Filing, which they had to pass to Geigi at some point before they stepped off the bus, would lend a certain flavor to their arrival. That was dead certain.

  17

  Mani had gotten a courier message. Jegari could not find out what it was.

  That was interesting.

  It was more interesting that mani ordered better dress and all of a sudden more men on the roof and had a private conference with Ramaso.

  “You stay here with nand’ Toby,” Cajeiri said to Antaro, who was the more level-headed and the gentler of his aishid. “If he wakes up, say this.” And he said, in ship-speak: “Cajeiri is talking with his great-grandmother,” and made her say it three times so he knew she had it. “And if he insists he needs me, send a servant to find me. We told nand’ Bren we would stay with him, so we can never leave him.”

  But he went and put on his best coat and gathered up Jegari, and went and asked permission to visit mani.

  He halfway expected mani would say no and go away. But Nawari let him in, and told Jegari to stay outside.

  Mani was sitting by the fireside in her usual chair. She was very formally dressed and very grim. Cajeiri went up to her and bowed very properly.

  “Well?” she asked.

  A second bow. “Nand’ Toby is still all right, mani. He sleeps a lot. Why are we all dressed for court?”

  “Because my fool grandson—your father—has launched a war and Filed on the lord of the Maschi!” Great-grandmother snapped. “A war long overdue, and one we have counseled long since, but it is highly inconsiderate of him to do so with the paidhi-aiji and Lord Geigi in such a position. We asked for support, not, baji-naji, a general conflict with the Marid! We are highly incensed!”

  “Are they in danger, mani?”

  “Oh, doubtless they are in extreme danger! The Maschi may by now have been advised that they will be attacked, they will draw an immediate conclusion when the bus arrives, and if they have Guild borrowed from the Marid, those clans will also have been notified they are to be a target. And if you were Lord Machigi, what would you do?”

  “I would be very careful to keep Barb-daja alive and I would try to take nand’ Bren prisoner, too.”

  “Brilliant! Unfortunately that is exactly what he will do. And your father did this in full knowledge of where the paidhi-aiji is going. Oh, he has committed an extraordinary number of Guild to protect them, but this is a high risk. One assumes the Guild has notified the Marid—or is in the process of doing so. And has it deliberated with no advance word getting to the Marid or to the Maschi?”

  “They did not tell you, mani.”

  That stopped Great-grandmother for a breath, and made her look sharply toward the other room, which might be where Cenedi was.

  “Also,” Cajeiri plunged ahead, because the thought had occurred to him, “if I were Machigi, and I knew we were here, I would be very sure to try to catch you, mani, and me, even if my father has got another heir on the way.”

  Great-grandmother frowned at him, and Cajeiri decided he had just been scarily pert.

  “Well,” Great-grandmother said. “Well! Is my great-grandson possessed of any other thought?”

  He bowed. That was always safest. And thought fast. “It would be good,” Cajeiri said desperately, “if Machigi came here, since they would not be attacking nand’ Bren with all their people, and we can be ready for them.”

  Great-grandmother suddenly laughed aloud, the grim lines fracturing into great delight. “Great-grandson, you have your father’s nerve and, one is very glad to see, our wits! We have sent word to the Grandmother of Najida. We are about to call and thank your father for the extravagant favor he has done us all at this delicate time. And we are calling in the Gan.”

  “The Gan, mani-ma?” He knew about them. They were very much like the Edi, also from the island of Mospheira from when the humans landed, and they were independent like the Edi, but also allied to them, and lived on the northern coast near Dur.

  “Relatives of the Edi, seafarers, who will be glad to be invited into a quarrel with the Marid. Your father will not approve, since they will be asking for the same privilege as the Edi, an estate, a state, and a lordship of their own, but we have another strong connection to them. Do you recall the young pilot, Great-grandson, who showed up at Tirnamardi?”

  “Without a doubt, mani-ma!” He was immediately excited. It had been a beautiful yellow plane, and the young pilot dashing and gallant, and he had wanted to fly, too. “He is not Gan, however, is he, mani?”

  “He is not, nor is his father, but in the way Lord Geigi has represented the Edi, his father represents the Gan, and stands for them, and he will immediately see the benefit in defending us. A threat to the paidhi-aiji will bring them here, we have no doubt. So go! Consider how you and your aishid will protect nand’ Toby if we come under attack. We shall need to take shelter belowground and we have that pernicious nephew of Geigi’s in our way.”

  “We could move the stored things up into the suites, mani, and clear the storerooms and then we would all fit downstairs.”

  “Good! Flexibility is a commendable trait. Send me Nawari while you talk to Ramaso and have it done.”

  “Yes,” he said. He had never been given an important job until yesterday; and now mani handed him one, too, and he was supposed to be in two places at once. Mani clearly was short of people to take her order
s, which meant she had everybody busy.

  He stopped outside, where Jegari waited with Nawari. “Gari-ji,” he said with a little bow. And another: “Nawari-nadi. Great-grandmother wants you immediately. Gari-ji, come with me.”

  “Where are we going, nandi?” Jegari asked.

  “We are on Great-grandmother’s business,” he announced with some satisfaction, and headed off at a quick pace.

  He was not sure he could get Ramaso to do what he said, and move all the furniture. But he intended to try, without any recourse to adult authority. He had gotten fairly good at getting his way.

  It was becoming useful, even to mani.

  18

  The land had begun to rise again, as the bus entered a region of white rock and ancient, weathered evergreen, under a noon sun. One sat thinking about snipers, and watching those high rocks with some misgivings.

  But it was, given other information, likely that those rocks were already cleared, and occupied by Tabini’s forces. One didn’t ask—only trusted that if their bodyguard were in the least suspicious, they would all be sitting on the floor.

  Then the roofs of a village appeared in the distance—reminder that whatever force they could bring to bear, Maschi clan territory had a fair population. This village would belong to an affiliated clan, the Pejithi, who lived their lives and conducted their commerce with the capital, and likely with the Marid.

  In the distance, around a bend in the road, and past an intersection with a better-used market road, rose a different outline, the sprawling roofs of a noble house of that same white stone, a noble house surrounded by a ruined remnant of its fortified walls, sign of great antiquity in this region.

  Nowadays the breached walls, interspersed with zigzag rail fence, would simply be keeping wandering herds of game out of the formal gardens that showed in those gaps. It was a picturesque house, with its two standing towers and its curved tile roof, a regional style. The television antenna somewhat spoiled the effect.

  Lord Geigi stirred from his nap, or his pretense of one, even rising from his seat for a moment’s better look out the front window.