Emergence

by C. J. Cherryh

  “These hard cases won’t be your problem, unless their behavior impacts the safety of the children, but you will be dealing with public perception and public assumptions. The landings are bound to generate controversy, more so as it gets to the not-so-virtuous, and how you speak about your charges and the Reunioners in general to the news will matter. You will have good people to deal with. And I can assure you they want to be here. They look forward to it. But they may have small moments when the strangeness is more than they can handle. Be patient.

  “You’ll also be dealing with three University students, who’ll come and go. They’re not to bring in outsiders, and they know that. They’re kids. Language students, who’ll be the kids’ teachers. They’re not professionals. If there’s a problem with them, talk to Dr. Shugart. She’ll bring them right.

  “Questions?”

  An exchange of looks, slight shakes of heads, then Ing said, “We’ve seen the documentary from the station, Mr. Cameron. Nothing you’ve said surprises us. We understand it’s to air this evening. Should we expect trouble? Should we be proactive?”

  “Always,” was Banichi’s response when Bren translated that, and: “Place yourselves in areas of gathering this evening. Take note of reactions.”

  To which Bren added: “Pubs. Bars. Judiciously, of course.”

  It was, Bren thought, seeing them out the door, a success, a long session, but a good one. They were due a second, more technical session tomorrow.

  “They will do,” Banichi said. “One believes they will do well.”

  15

  It had been a long day. The Ajuri had gone out to recover their camp in the morning, and staff had gone out to help set up the collapsed tents and secure the rest, taking in muddied bedding to wash and restore as much as they could, first in tubs filled from the pump—wet work, with rain still sifting down, before bringing it into the lower halls. There were few comforts out there, but staff provided chairs and benches, and a table with an endless supply of tea and small sandwiches.

  And the shiny red and black bus had loaded up amid it all, to make a run to Diegi. Uncle, despite nand’ Pari’s pleas, had flatly refused to go, and as the next best thing, nand’ Pari had sent along his notes for the hospital in Diegi to review. Antaro had also resisted going, protesting that it was only a green break, that the wrap and splint had been done by Uncle’s own physician, but it was swelling, her fingers showed it, she was reluctant to take painkillers, and Veijico and Lucasi added their opinions to Jegari’s that she should go. Cajeiri firmly finished the argument without even asking the seniors to step in.

  “One day, Taro-ji. Just a day. If I am not safe for one day with your teammates and the seniors, and Uncle’s guard and Mother’s, then I shall never be safe enough. Go. Have it seen to. Please. As a favor to me. The bus is going anyway, and you will be as comfortable sitting on the bus as sitting with us.”

  Antaro had boarded, though not happily, and Jegari with her. Domestic staff boarded, and then four of Uncle’s guard in full kit. Who had ordered them along as protection, Cajeiri was not sure, since Uncle had slept most of the day, but he suspected his own seniors might have, with two of the missing still at large, and especially with Uncle just having Filed on Great-aunt Geidaro. It was a comfort. Antaro and Jegari had brought their own communications and weapons with them, but it was a comfort all the same.

  So the bus at long last trundled off down the long drive toward the gate and vanished behind the roll of the land. It would be a little more than two hours to Diegi, an hour there, and two coming back. There was no question of the Taibeni camped outside the gate accompanying it, at the speed it could make all the way to Diegi. It would be off, on a well-maintained road, so Uncle’s people said. They were sure the bus, large though it was, would have no problem with the bridge, which was steel, so staff said, and wide enough.

  “One hopes they are right about that,” he said, and Veijico said quietly, “Staff has checked the load limit. They are well within it.”

  So, so many things to think of, doing the simplest thing. He could not get completely ahead of the seniors, he saw that. But then, as mani said, he should not get in the way of his staff.

  The bus would come back loaded with supplies. They had more people to house and feed, counting the Taibeni camp now as well as Mother’s guard, and Mother’s staff, and, which he again had not thought of—there was no knowing when troubles might cut them off from supply. He was used to thinking of Shejidan, where everything always was easy—but Tirnamardi sat separate, and the roads were few, and not completely safe, considering the neighbors.

  He had been getting a little prideful in his handling of things. But staff seemed to know exactly what was needed, and would have taken the estate truck if the bus had not been at Mother’s disposal, and Mother had offered it first to Uncle, for his trip to hospital, so it had just grown from there. There were groceries needed, and blankets and pillows, clothing since the disaster that had taken the tents down; portable showers, hose, and water dispensers, laundry soap, flour and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things. One tent had to be repaired, but by afternoon it was up along with the others, and everybody was back under canvas—Cajeiri could observe that, at least, from the windows.

  Mother was still talking to Nomari, and Uncle was still drowsy with painkillers.

  So Cajeiri knew. Cajeiri had the report, direct from Rieni.

  Uncle’s men on the roof had taken shelter during the lightning—they had not been overseeing the pen when the gate had opened, but equipment had been, and Rieni said that there were images, however shadowy, of what had gone on—but since Uncle’s Filing, they were a Guild matter under investigation, and by law, not for him to see. Their surmise was right: one man had gone to open the gate and the herd, sensing a stranger, had pressed against it and pushed it open prematurely. One man had fallen, two had bolted toward the orchard, and on a second search they had found yet one more set of remains, scarcely recognizable as what they were, mixed with the mud and a pile of brush.

  So now they were down to one missing visitor.

  There were other indications, too, that the three individuals had indeed been in hiding near the stables, in the granary, which pointed up a security gap, but not one easy to exploit, so Lucasi said later. The juniors were forbidden to say yet what senior Guild thought, but indications were that one man had survived, and likely gotten through the hedge outbound, north, where there was a gap from earlier in the year. Amid the chaos of the storm and the mecheiti being loose, there had been multiple alarms from the sensors along the hedges, as small creatures fled, so that well might have included one man running for his life.

  “Or running for Ajuri,” Lucasi said.

  It was at least a relief to know—which he was not supposed to say to anybody—that they had had alarms, and they did know things that were going to matter. Lucasi called it evidence.

  That was the cold little word. Uncle having Filed on Great-aunt Geidaro, now there was evidence that Great-aunt Geidaro had set people in among Nomari’s people who had done damage and injury to persons who were not Guild. That was against the law.

  He had no doubt she had put them there. But the Guild in its consideration would want evidence like names, and connections.

  And once they got that, if the evidence indeed piled up to back Uncle’s charges, Great-aunt Geidaro was going to get a letter from the Guild advising her to appear and answer with a Filing of her own, or to reach a settlement with Uncle—which was not highly likely. Great-aunt probably was not the only one living in Ajiden right now who had murdered people, and if there was one place the Assassins’ Guild Council likely really wanted to go into and search for evidence—it was Ajuri—that being Shishogi’s clan. Shishogi had set a device to go off in his own office in Guild Headquarters, and he had taken a lot of Guild records with him, by what Cajeiri had overheard and gathered. But that was not
saying that there might not be evidence in Great-aunt Geidaro’s rooms. Or elsewhere in Ajuri.

  Guild had already gotten into Kadagidi and gone over whatever they could find. They were still holding that under guard, and looking for certain people.

  But what they could find at Ajiden, combined with the Kadagidi records, might answer so many questions—

  Even about Grandmother.

  Mother and her bodyguard had spent hours today in her suite talking to Nomari alone, and the promised invitation to join them had never come. It was secrets again, things that Mother could ask Nomari and that Nomari probably had to answer. Likely she had gotten involved in it all and never found a moment to call him in.

  He had been frustrated all day, trying not to act frustrated—spending his time in the library, and talking, twice, at some length, with Uncle’s major domo, Heisi, about things Uncle was not well enough right now to see to, questions that really Heisi wished not to be left to his own discretion, when it came to the renewed camp on the lawn.

  The good news of the day was that the little two-year-old that Uncle had ridden had gotten onto her feet and drunk water and eaten right at the edge of dark. She had a name now. Uncle called her Kasuo, which was an old word for brave, and said he wanted that youngster given everything special.

  “They have taken her out into the pen,” Onami said, when he brought the news.

  “I should like very much to see her,” Cajeiri said, and before his aishid could object. “Only from the window.”

  “Yes, nandi,” Onami said and Cajeiri headed for the door. Three steps down the hallway, his aishid—which was Onami and Janachi while Antaro and Jegari were gone, filling out the four, with Veijico and Lucasi—stopped him, waiting, while they stood utterly still—receiving something from the downstairs office, likely.

  “Nandi,” Onami said, “a moment. Stay.”

  And without a word, Janachi headed downstairs at speed.

  “What is it?” Cajeiri asked, seeing frowns.

  “Janachi is going to ask, nandi,” Onami said. Bracelets burned a steady red. “We should stand here, but perhaps back from the window.”

  “Mother is with Nomari,” he said, alarmed.

  “Her aishid is receiving the same alert, nandi,” Onami said. “Likewise those with Lord Tatiseigi, and those watching the camp. This is an active alert. Something is in progress.”

  They stood a moment. Then Janachi came hurrying up the stairs from below, out of breath. “The bus has come under fire,” Janachi said.

  One wanted to swear. He knew the words. But he kept them inside. “The bus is bulletproof, is it not?”

  “To an extent,” Janachi said. “But we believe they are safe, and we have word that the bus is still moving. We are moving a force to the gate and alerting the Taibeni camp so that when they arrive, we shall have no additional problem.”

  “Geidaro,” Cajeiri said. “Nadiin, where is the bus?”

  “We are not at present sure,” Onami said. “We cannot use Guild communications, nandi. They may be compromised.”

  “Is it Shadow Guild?”

  “We cannot discount it, given who is involved.”

  “Uncle has to know. Mother has to know.” If it was Shadow Guild, there was a whole range of weapons they might have, everything to match the Guild protecting them, with means to understand signals. “Nadiin-ji, Father has to know.”

  “We have advised Headquarters, and they will contact your father. Right now, we are listening, and all of us are on full alert.”

  “Is my great-aunt doing this?”

  “That, young aiji, is a very central question. That bus is well-known. They may believe nand’ Bren has come back from Mospheira to take a hand in this. They may know your mother is here. They certainly know that you are. And if their intelligence has somewhat penetrated the house, they may even know that Lord Tatiseigi was supposed to be on that bus. But most of all, they know that bus will gain access to the estate when it comes back, and one hopes that the staff has not talked imprudently in gathering supplies, and told them more than we would estimate they do know.”

  “Given the targets available at Tirnamardi,” Onami said, “and with Lord Tatiseigi Filing on Geidaro-daja—the remnant of Shishogi’s organization may have decided to take a massive risk. They have lost every time they choose to fight in the open. Headquarters has not reckoned any northern remnant capable of mounting a large action, but with Lord Tatiseigi Filing on your great-aunt, and Headquarters having a request that will bring Guild action into Ajuri, what remains of Shishogi’s organization may be willing to cast everything they have on this one throw.”

  He was here: that was no secret. Uncle was. And Nomari. Now Mother was, with Seimei. If the Shadow Guild could get in, if it could kill even one of them, it would more than throw the whole Padi Valley into chaos. It would encourage every enemy Father had. They could still bring down the aishidi’tat, and do it right here.

  But moving people across the southern mountains—meant rail.

  “How fast can they get the southern people up here?”

  “Not fast enough, young aiji. That is why your great-grandmother will be asking Lord Machigi to make a strong move at the Dojisigi and Senjin.”

  The two northern districts of the Marid were the strongholds of what Shadow Guild remained. He understood that. The seniors were giving him the truth, as much of it as they would give Father, he strongly believed it, but they were not going to need advice from a nine-year-old boy. He drew in a deep breath and promised the only thing they could want from him. “I shall not do anything stupid, nadiin-ji. Please advise my mother. And Uncle.”

  “We will be doing that,” Janachi said.

  Great-aunt Geidaro had done stupid, extravagant things before now, and Great-aunt, if she had a remnant of Shishogi’s power in that organization—might be determined to go down with everything she could muster. And the Shadow Guild might come in determined to take everything away from her—like the records the Guild wanted to get from Ajuri.

  The Shadow Guild would be smart to do that and vanish—without attacking Tirnamardi.

  “If the Guild does not act on the Filing soon,” he said, “Great-aunt Geidaro will destroy any records. She is spiteful.”

  His aishid looked shocked. And Janachi gave a little nod. “Very possibly, young aiji. Hers or Shishogi’s, or maybe both.”

  He had felt responsibility one way—and the other—responsibility for Great-aunt’s life; responsibility for everybody’s safety. Now he just felt angry. He knew the enemy. They were the same enemy as they had ever been in his life, they were somewhere behind the reason Father had sent him and mani up to space, and now they were back again, coming into Uncle’s own hall, threatening Uncle, and now attacking the bus where Antaro and Jegari were, and threatening Mother, and Seimei and everything he had. He ran up the steps, remembered halfway that he was not supposed to run, and stopped, facing his combined aishid, who were right behind him. “I shall go to Mother’s room, with her Guild. Onami, Janachi, I swear I shall not be stupid. Go be with Rieni. I shall not leave the upstairs, no matter what. Go!”

  The seniors had more important things to do than stand about in his vicinity. He had Veijico and Lucasi. He headed down the upstairs hall, full of dark thoughts, and heard Onami and Janachi going down, doing what he ordered.

  It was not fair, he thought. Which was the way Boji thought. Boji was much on fairness and whether he got an egg when he was good.

  Fair was not the way people fought for power. He had learned that a long time ago. Uncle had Filed Intent, the way things were supposed to work, the way the Guild was supposed to operate: they considered the petition, they investigated the incident, and sometimes they launched an extreme action, with Guild on both sides. But the Shadow Guild had ignored those rules. They just murdered people, any people, people who had done nothing
against the law in their lives.

  Great-aunt Geidaro had attended Mother when she was expecting Seimei.

  That was the most perfectly awful thought he had ever had drop into his mind.

  He reached Mother’s door, where two of Mother’s bodyguard were on watch, and hardly bothered to knock.

  Beha was at her needlework. She looked up, stood up in alarm, gave a little bow.

  “Young aiji,” she said. “What is the trouble?”

  “Someone has attacked the bus,” he said, and went to Seimei’s crib, where his sister stirred and grimaced, disturbed in her sleep. “Hush, hush, little sister. Nothing bad will come.”

  But there were pictures in his mind, Grandmother dying, and Grandfather stealing the baby from this crib.

  Who was Beha? She was Macanti, a subclan of Abeiri, over on the west coast. But who was she, but somebody Father had found? Father had thought Beha was loyal. Great-grandmother’s people were Mother’s guards. Surely if there was anything in the least suspicious in Mother’s staff, now, they would find it.

  The door opened. Mother came in, and by her expression, the news had gotten to her.

  “The bus is under attack,” Mother said without preamble, in a hushed voice. “We do not yet know the outcome.” She came to the crib, and looked at Seimei, and touched her, then looked at him. “You must not leave this floor. You must not be in the hall right now.”

  “I know,” he said. “My two seniormost are downstairs in the security office. They are trying to find out about the bus.”

  “Antaro is on it.”

  “With Jegari. And Uncle’s staff.” He felt as if the blood were draining out of him. “I am worried, Honored Mother. I want to do something.”

  “We are not defenseless here,” Mother said. “Nor are they.”

  “I know. I am remembering—I am remembering Great-aunt Geidaro. When Father sent her away from the Bujavid. She was angry then. She did not show that face to everyone. But I saw it. It was scary. Lady Adsi was upset.” That had been Mother’s chief of staff. Adsi would have been where Beha was, if Father had not thrown all Mother’s Ajuri guards and her staff out of the Bujavid, right along with Grandfather and all his people. “Honored Mother, I am thinking—Ajuri stealing you away from here was one thing—but stealing another baby, out of the Bujavid . . . I am glad Father sent Lady Adsi away. I am glad Lady Adsi was not with you when my sister was born. I would not trust any of them with Seimei.”