Betrayer: Foreigner #12 (7 page)

The frown persisted. “So the pirates become part of the aishidi’tat. Is that a recommendation for the aishidi’tat? And the Marid is to get
nothing
by standing by and allowing this to happen?”

The paidhi-aiji was considerably out on a limb. And making extravagant promises that could only be unmade by Tabini totally repudiating him and his office and leaving him to face whatever mess he’d created.

He said, quietly, “Again, I plead the lack of advance consultation, nandi. But what I personally would support, in every possible way and with all the influence of my domestic office, is, first, the safety of Marid ships to move in all waters. And second, as I have mentioned, the training of Marid personnel for work on the space station. Increased trade. The development of a major airport and rail access here in the Marid for commercial traffic. Besides the development of
east
coast harbors, which is the dowager’s particular gain. The Marid can gain the advantages that, in my own opinion, it should have enjoyed long since—advantages that would have prevented much of the past bitterness and made the lives of its people the better for it. Your predecessors and Tabini-aiji have had their differences, which were set in motion by unfortunate decisions two hundred years ago. One respectfully suggests the disputes of two hundred years ago are no longer profitable to either side. That they are, in fact, even inimical to both sides’ best interests—and even if they are embedded in popular sentiment, popular sentiment is very rapidly affected by profit and prosperity.”

“But you do not speak for Tabini in offering this.”

“For the aiji-dowager. Who does not
offer
you anything in the West. Only in the East.” A deep breath. A gathering of panicked, skittering thoughts. “I assure you, nandi, I have asked myself, from the moment I received the dowager’s orders—why now? And I have reached two conclusions: first, she saw a moment of opportunity; and second, she is greatly vexed by certain decisions involving the formation of the aishidi’tat that
she
did not get the chance to overturn. She had wielded the power on her son’s death. You may recall she came very close to
being
aiji in Shejidan. Ragi interests stepped in to hand the office to her Ragi grandson.”

Machigi’s face changed somewhat in the course of that. It was not a communicative face, but one could surmise that Machigi, being quite young, had
not
been that in touch with history.

The Ragi dominance over the aishidi’tat, however, was right at the core of resentments in Machigi’s local universe.

Ilisidi had been double-crossed by Ragi connivance? True. And it set Ilisidi and the Marid curiously on the same side of the fence in that regard. He watched Machigi weighing that bit of history, which was perhaps new to his thinking.

“An interesting perspective,” Machigi commented finally. He did not stop frowning.

And meanwhile the paidhi-aiji had had the most uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach regarding what he had just said—that it could be
exactly
the aiji-dowager’s game, and not only in the Marid.

Power. Ilisidi had come within an ace of being aiji
twice
in her life, once after the death of her husband, Tabini’s grandfather, and again at the death of her son, Tabini’s father. She had come so close, in fact, that suspicion had attached to her in those two deaths—not to mention to Tabini, in the latter instance. Atevi suspected foul play by default, in any change in parties in power—

But in that case, suspicion had perhaps been justified. And maybe she was getting back to old business. Kingmaking, in this case, spotting a likely candidate and making a move to bring him under her influence.

Machigi was capable of utter ruthlessness. Give him more power, and the difficulty was going to be in keeping Machigi in his bottle. In the same way Ilisidi had always been dangerous . . . so was this young man.

But Ilisidi had been around a long, long time. And Machigi w
as
young. The potential in that relationship was frightening. And Machigi had better count his change in the transaction.

The silence went on a few more heartbeats. Then Machigi shifted in his chair, folded his hands across his middle, and gave a very guarded smile.

“You come up with all this structure of air and wishes, all because the dowager concludes some of my neighbors in the Marid would like to see me dead.”

“If you were dead, nandi, it would even disadvantage your neighbors, though they may not see it that way now. The Marid needs a strong, single leader or it falls apart in internal conflict. But it is quite clear to me, and I think to the dowager, and perhaps to her grandson, that chaos in this region at this time would in no wise benefit them.”

“So we are now favored as trusted allies?”

“If there were no Marid, nandi, there would be worse problems for the aishidi’tat. Humans have a saying: Nature abhors a vacuum. Peace first. Then profit. With freedom of the seas—and space—there
will
be profit.”

Machigi lifted a hand in a throwaway gesture. “Of course. And my own relations with the western coast? Lord Geigi in particular will not be my ally.”

That
was fairly direct.

“His sister’s death is the most grievous matter. Are we unjust to suspect it?”

“Not unjust.”

“May one be even more blunt, nandi, and ask, in fact, about the kidnapping of an Edi child and the mining of the Kajiminda road—whether, despite your not having been responsible, you were knowledgable?”

“Would it actually matter to the aiji-dowager, paidhi-aiji?”

“Frankly, no, nandi. If we achieve peace, that question becomes irrelevant—unless the answer is no.”

Machigi’s eyes had flickered through the convolutions of that statement—until the last. Then the grim smile came back.

“The answer
is
no,” Machigi said. “We were surprised at the news. We are attempting to discover who did plan it, and Tabini-aiji will not have to trouble himself to deal with it.”

One yes, one no. The odds Machigi was dealing in the truth—rose.

“May one then relay to the dowager that she was entirely right?”

“Let her worry,” Machigi said. “When you next speak to her, you officially speak under our man’chi. Is that not your duty?”

Speak under our man’chi. Hell! Speak as Machigi’s representative ? He’d promised it—but that wasn’t entirely what Machigi meant.

The shift of man’chi Machigi invoked was the old way. There’d been an institution among atevi a long time ago, before the aishidi’tat . . . a way of settling things, a specialized negotiator. The white ribbon had gotten to mean the paidhi-aiji, the human interpreter’s unique badge of office, over the last couple of centuries. And he’d represented both sides of the
human-atevi
divide . . . until it just wasn’t that divided, nowadays.

But he did wear the white ribbon. He’d been sent into the house of an enemy—and Machigi, out of a district that hadn’t, over all, ever adopted Ragi ways, any more than Ilisidi’s East had ever done, had just called him on it.

He’d probably, he thought, turned a shade of white.

“One is honored by your suggestion,” he said, trying to appear unruffled, and told himself it was actually encouraging that Machigi was willing to consider him in the mediator’s role . . . a role in which he had some protection—as long as Machigi was willing to play by the ancient book, and so long as the negotiations didn’t collapse.

Mortality among ancient negotiators had been tolerably high as one party or other decided to terminate the negotiations—and terminate the negotiator, who now knew too much—all in one stroke. Ancient rulers had used to saddle spare relatives and very old courtiers with that duty.

And of
all
lords he could ever represent, Machigi of the Taisigin Marid was not at the top of his preferences.

“It is not a forgotten custom in the Marid.”

“So—yes. If you have that confidence in me, nandi, send me to Najida, and I shall state your positions to the dowager and come back again with precise offers.”

Machigi pursed his lips slightly. “Not yet. Not yet, nand’ paidhi. Your continued presence is, one trusts, no great inconvenience to anyone at this moment.”

Well, he was still stuck. But they were still being polite. He assumed a pleasant expression and inclined his head in calm acceptance. “I am willing,” he said, and decided to go for all else he could get. “And in no hurry. Though continued phone contact with Najida would be a decided convenience. Most particularly, I would wish to send the bus back to Targai. It is very cramped quarters for them and cannot be pleasant.”

“We have offered local accommodation for those aboard.”

Of course Machigi had. “Indeed,” Bren said, “but they are the aiji’s and not directly under my command while I am separate from them. I am, quite frankly, interested in preventing any misunderstanding out there. I would like to send everyone back except myself and my personal guard. One has utmost confidence in your hospitality—and I hope not to wreck these negotiations on a missed communication. Let us clear the area of all persons who might make a mistake.”

Machigi smiled, and this time a little of it did reach the eyes. “We both understand.”

“Understand me, nandi, that I am quite serious in my representations to you. You have an opportunity that has not existed for the last two hundred years.”

“Since we were robbed of the west coast, in fact.”

“What advantage, nandi, to hold the west coast at continual warfare with the center and the West
and
the station aloft—when you have a fair offer of access to the East, the untrammeled freedom of the seas,
and
a presence on the station? There is every advantage in that agreement. There is
nothing
held back from you.”

“Except the west coast.”

“It is
small
compared to the scope you can have elsewhere.”

“Little profit to me in exposing myself to assassination by your allies.”

“We can, nandi, get past the infelicitous history of relations, even recent ones, even the matter between you and Lord Geigi, if we may be specific. We have his nephew Baiji in custody. You have no further use for him, one assumes, but the dowager has—in terms of the bloodline he carries and in terms of her concern for Lord Geigi. So it would be convenient for Lord Geigi officially to forget Baiji’s indiscretions, which is the course one is sure he will take. He is a practical man. Besides, Lord Geigi’s primary interest is in returning to the station.”

“Out of reach and unassailable. But not incapable of Filing with the Guild.”

“His man’chi is to Tabini-aiji, and he has a strong association with the aiji-dowager and with me. He will place those interests foremost. I know him very well, nandi, and I am sure that he will decline to pursue a feud that undermines a peaceful settlement on this coast, not out of weakness but because he is a practical man.”

The hand lifted. Machigi leaned his jaw against his fist. “Go on, paidhi. Give me more of your specifics. How would you perform this wonder?”

“First among necessities, nandi, a series of moves to stabilize the situation here with the negotiations: I have stated what I would ask—freedom to communicate. Simultaneously, I would ask the dowager’s support for your continuance as lord of Taisigi clan; the dowager and the aiji in Shejidan have already made encouraging moves in that regard, in canceling one Guild action against you and working to derail the other. And, felicitous third, I would secure from you a formal agreement of association with the aiji-dowager.”

“All these airy promises do nothing for us.”

“They do a great deal, nandi. I can fairly confidently predict that Tabini-aiji would restrain any move that might unbalance your negotiations with the aiji-dowager, once underway. Agreement with her would be a good arrangement for both sides, necessarily, understand, removing any approval from the
legislature
from the equation.”

That got a little flicker of Machigi’s eyes.

Bren continued: “
Tabini-aiji
is the one that directly controls atevi access to the station. The relationship between yourself and the aiji-dowager would urge his agreement to your access there—again, nothing the legislature has to approve. He can do it with the stroke of a pen. Certain things can be done to build confidence on both sides.”

Machigi lifted a brow, a surprisingly boyish look.

“You have a piratical bent, yourself, paidhi-aiji.”

“The path with fewest rocks, nandi, is the fastest. And while the matter will be discussed in the legislature—nothing prevents that—the flow of trade will ease that debate. We prevent conflict—”

“Meaning I would agree not to assassinate Lord Geigi and he would agree not to assassinate me.”

“Nothing to excite comment. The less news that comes out of the arrangement at first, the faster we can move. Speed will alarm certain elements—on your side and the dowager’s, quite likely. But if we lose momentum on this, one can foresee there will be altogether too many participants in the decisions, and things will fly off in all directions. Controlled change is the purpose of my office, nandi. Nothing too fast or too slow and having everything in order and agreed before the news gets out is the best policy.”

“So,” Machigi said, chin on hand. “If we were to proceed on this course you name, what would be your first desire? Not that I shall grant it, understand, but let us see where you would start.”

“I have already started, nandi, by being sure the Guild does not blame you for the outrages in Najida. It remains for you to deal with your internal enemies.”

“So we do the bloody work for you—and weaken our own territory.”

“Within the Marid, nandi, you will have a far surer sense where to apply force—and justice. You are the authority here in the Marid. That is agreed.”