Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (22 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

BOOK: Deceiver: Foreigner #11
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It was an astonishingly generous offer. It stripped Kajiminda of all income except a little hunting and a little fishing, and, most importantly, put Kajiminda village itself under Edi control. There was a quiet buzz of interest in the room.
And the paidhi asked himself—was it legal?
Could
Geigi do that, without the authority of his clan lord? Never mind he was the holder of Kajiminda—did he have the authority to sign part of it away?
Muted tap, from Ilisidi’s cane.
“We also support Lord Geigi’s offer.”
More comment in the room, people perhaps asking themselves the same question. And two more taps of the cane.
“Cenedi,” Ilisidi said sharply, and Cenedi walked from behind her chair to the midst of the gathering.
“A word from the Guild that protects the aiji-dowager,” Cenedi said, “and from others of the Assassins’ Guild involved here at Najida, regarding our intent and purpose. We will bring armed force where necessary to protect the lords of the aishidi’tat. We will
not
move against forces that may be defending Edi territories. We count such forces as allied to the lord of Kajiminda according to a treaty approved by the aishidi’tat. Our Guild supports Lord Geigi’s decision to rely on local force, and will cooperate.”
Technical, but that was major, even speaking only for Guild presently in the area. The Assassins’ Guild had historically taken a very dim view of militias and irregulars . . . and Ilsidi’s chief of security promised cooperation with the Edi.
“Nadiin,” Cenedi said then, and four more Guild walked to mid-room: Geigi’s, from the station. “Nand’ Geigi’s bodyguard.”
A little bow from Haiji, the senior of that association. “We are here
with
our lord. We will work with Edi staff and with Guild here at Najida. Cooperation with the people of the region is our lord’s standing order.”
With which, with quiet precision, the five Guildsmen separated and went back to their places, leaving a little buzz of talk behind them.
“We invite the Edi to choose a building site,” Geigi said. “Anything is negotiable. We are at a point of felicitous change. Baji-naji, there will be adjustments and perfection of our understandings, but let us establish that there will be an Edi seat in this district, whether or not the lordship is declared this year or the next. You will begin to make it inevitable, and
having
a place to which communications may come and from which statements are understood to be official—the aishidi’tat understands such things as important. To what degree you use this place for your purposes, or in what way you use it, or how you sanctify it—that will be
Edi
business.”
There had been a lukewarm response up to that last sentence. But Geigi, whose whole business on the station was maintaining a smooth interface between atevi and humans, and making things work, had just delivered something that did matter, deeply, with that last
how you sanctify it
. Old Aeiso rocked to and fro and finally slapped her stout hands together, twice and a third time.
Feet stamped. Faces remained impassive, but the racket had to be heard throughout the house; and it went on until Aieso got up and wrapped her shawls about her.
“Will it be agreed?” she asked, and at a low mutter from her people, she nodded, folded her arms tightly and looked at Geigi and at Ilisidi, and straight at Bren. “Kajiminda will be under our protection, the same as Najida, and our hunters range as far as Separti Township and report to us. Guild are welcome under the direction of our allies Lord Geigi and Lord Bren and the Grandmother of the Ragi.”
That was a damned major concession, and rated an inclination of lordly heads.
“Najida hopes to be a good neighbor, nandi,” Bren said.
“So with Kajiminda,” Geigi said.
“The Grandmother of Najida knows our disposition,” Ilisidi said, and Aieso nodded, rocking her whole body.
“So. We will walk,” Aieso said, “we shall go walking seaward of the brook on Kajiminda, Maschi lord, and see if there is a spot the foremothers favor.”
“Indeed,” Geigi said. Bren only remotely construed what Aieso intended, but one recalled the monuments of the Edi on the island of Mospheira, the monoliths incised with primitive, slit-eyed, slit-mouthed faces and the hint of folded arms: the Grandmother Stones, left behind—one could only imagine the trauma. Such stones stood on an isle to the north, in Gan territory. Ragi atevi, inveterate tourists, who would undergo amazing hardship to view something historic or scenic, were not welcome there, and, in turn, pretended no such stones existed. They were
not
on the official maps.
One thought of those stones, in territory where no outsider was welcome.
One gathered the old woman would, indeed, go hiking about the peninsula, likely with a contingent of her people—testing Geigi, among other things. Maybe establishing lookouts and arrangements of their own, for future defense.
It would be a far walk for the old woman. And a hard one. By the placement of such statues, the Edi favored difficult places.
“Najida would lend the bus for transport,” Bren said, “should you wish, nandi.”
That won a soft chuckle from Aieso, who seemed in increasing good humor, even brimming delight. “The old truck will suffice us, Najida-lord. But mostly we shall walk.” And to Ilisidi: “Grandmother of the Ragi, speak to your grandson and advise him what we have agreed. Advise him when we walk in Kajiminda, we will assure our own safety.”
Ilisidi nodded. “We wish you well, Grandmother of the Edi.”
Aieso gathered her shawl about her. Her company stood up, and Bren did, and so did Geigi and Cajeiri. There were bows on both sides, a second nod from Ilisidi, who accepted Cenedi’s arm to rise, slowly, using her cane, and the visitors quietly followed Aieso out, leaving a room full of slightly disordered chairs and a portentous silence.
God, Bren thought, done was done. The Edi were going to pick out a building site on what amounted to their half of Kajiminda Peninsula, and one could figure, up on the north coast, their fellow exiles from Mospheira, the Gan, were going to start making their own demands on the aishidi’tat for full recognition and, one hoped, membership in the aishidi’tat—
that
point was one on which he intended to work hard.
Well, well, the aishidi’tat was still suffering aftershocks from the earthquake of Tabini-aiji’s fall and his triumphant, popularly driven return, and in some ways that popular mandate was still empowering the regime to fix things.
It was an old, old wound, the two exiled atevi peoples from Mospheira, essentially being the west coast of the aishidi’tat, yet being governed by other, continental, clans—while coming under perpetual assault from their old enemies in the Marid—
Well, things were going to change, if change didn’t kill them all.
Certain interests were going to have a howling fit.
“Well done, Geigi-ji,” Ilisidi said. “Bravely done.”
Geigi gave a small, dry laugh. “Now we have only to inform Maschi clan,” he said, “that I have given away half the peninsula.”
“Let Maschi Clan be very careful,” Ilisidi muttered ominously. “We will speak to them, Geigi-ji, should the Guild of Maschi clan at Targai want more information.”
“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said quietly. Ilisidi was taking actions in which her grandson had not been consulted . . . actions that could shake a quarter of the continent.
But then, her grandson had left her here.
With
his heir. Tabini was just about on Ilisidi’s scale when it came to forcing his way on the world.
Bren had personally dreaded the upcoming legislative session, and his own part in it—which involved the proliferation of cell phones. Now he was less sure they were even going to get around to debating cell phones, once the matter on the west coast hit the floor.
And Lord Geigi said: “’Sidi-ji, I must deal with Maschi clan,
and
the Guild that serve there. One owes one’s clan that, at least, amid the honors Ragi clan has given. I must be the one to deliver this news.”
“Then do it by phone!” Ilisidi snapped—an earthquake of a statement from one of the most conservative, traditional forces in the aishidi’tat.
Geigi shook his head. “’Sidi-ji, you know I cannot. I must tell him. I must tell him soon. That was the price of so advising the Grandmother—and one knows Pairuti will not be pleased with me.”
“If he is wise, he will be pleased!” Ilisidi said. “Or you will
take
the clan, Geigi-ji. We
need
the vote!”
“Aiji-ma,” Geigi began to protest.
“The Marid will take him,” Ilisidi said, “or we do. Pairuti is a weak stick. This arrangement cannot lean on his good behavior.”
“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said in despair.
“And you may advise him of
that
by phone, if you take our advice! And summon him to Kajiminda!”
“One cannot, one cannot, aiji-ma, for my own honor, and Maschi honor, most of all, one cannot. I must give him a chance, with his dignity, for his honor, and mine.”
“His
honor!” Ilisidi said darkly, and leaned on her cane and frowned at him, and frowned at Bren, and then at nothing in particular. She drew herself up then, and the cane tapped softly, once, twice, three times, and her jaw set. “He surely knows that you are back on the earth, he surely knows that Kajiminda is in distress—oh, we cannot believe that he is under-informed, and where is any message from him? We see none.”
“There has been none, aiji-ma,” Bren said.
“Well, if you must do it, Geigi-ji, prepare to do it in style. And nand’ Bren will assist. He is a persuasive sort. Will you not assist, nand’ paidhi?”
Bren bowed his head, said, “Aiji-ma,” and thought to himself—Ilisidi had just gone secretive on them.
“The lord of Kajiminda must
sit
in Kajiminda again, nandiin-ji,” Ilisidi said. “From
there
he most reasonably would depart to visit Maschi clan. Nand’ paidhi, you have a bus.”
“At nand’ Geigi’s service, and the aiji-dowager’s, of course.”
“We have some few things to arrange,” Ilisidi said, flexing her fingers on the knob of her cane. “We have some calls to make, but, Geigi-ji,
you
must simply rest and let us arrange them.”
“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said with a little bow. “But I must send messages.”
“One is certain they will be discreet, and wise. Nand’ Bren will assist you, making any contacts you need.”
“Without doubt, aiji-ma,” Bren said, but was not certain she even heard him.
Ilisidi was already, in her mind, setting something in motion, and it was a fair guess that Geigi’s honor would not like to know too much right now.
That, or Geigi had just made the requisite formal protest—for his honor’s sake—before undertaking something his honor found difficult. He
was
a Rational Determinist, a philosophy which relied less on Fortune and Chance, that baji-naji attitude of the traditionalists. In his beliefs, he could shove Fortune into motion; and he had just made his own proposal to the Grandmother of Najida, generous beyond anything reasonable.
And, what was more, one suffered more than a slight suspicion that Geigi had not at all surprised Ilisidi when he had done it.
9
 
L
ucasi and Veijico were not entirely happy. They had, of course, been listening at the door during mani’s session with the Grandmother and Lord Geigi, but they had not been pleased with being relegated to the hall.
And they had had their heads together at least twice since they had gotten back to the suite. Cajeiri noted that fact. He had very good ears—too good, Great-grandmother often said—and he knew a good many of the Guild hand-signs he was not supposed to know, because Banichi and Jago had taught him, and so had Antaro and Jegari, whenever they learned them.
There was no sign for
our seniors are out of their minds
and there was none for
we are superior to all these people.
But that was rather well communicated without their saying a thing.
“Luca-ji. Jico-ji,” he said, in the process of shrugging on a light daycoat Jegari held for him. “Are we possibly discussing my great-grandmother’s business?”
That got their attention. Instantly. And he thought,
If they lie to me, they will be in trouble.
Lucasi bowed slightly, a little more than a nod. “We were discussing the events in the house, yes, nandi.”
“Do we form policy, nadiin-ji?”
A small silence. A slightly seditious silence.
Seditious
was one of Great-uncle’s words.
Conspiratorial
was another.
“We do not,” Lucasi said with a second bow.
Cajeiriwished he had a cane like Great-grandmother’s. It would be very useful with manners like that.
“You are much too smooth,” Cajeiri said. “Smoothness is just a little step from lying.”

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