Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (34 page)
Read Deceiver: Foreigner #11 Online
Authors: C. J. Cherryh
So it could turn out like that. It was already showing signs of it. And just thinking about the Marid made his heart beat faster, and made him mad along with everybody else, that was what it felt like—not because he was a kid and a follower; but because these people had messed up
his
business and
his
intentions and then shot people who were attached to nand’ Bren, who was
his
nand’ Bren. Maybe his was not so big a piece of business with the Marid as mani had, certainly not as big as the Edi, or the aishidi’tat had. But he was very close to being mad, personally.
his
business and
his
intentions and then shot people who were attached to nand’ Bren, who was
his
nand’ Bren. Maybe his was not so big a piece of business with the Marid as mani had, certainly not as big as the Edi, or the aishidi’tat had. But he was very close to being mad, personally.
And it was a long way from being about his fishing trip.
One did not want the fight to turn out like Tirnamardi. One did not want nand’ Bren’s house blown up and people killed.
And there was something else he was mad about. He resented being mad about grown-up things because he didn’t want to be grown-up yet. He wanted to go fishing and go exploring and messing with things. He just wanted an aishid that wanted to do fun things—Antaro and Jegari did.
But Veijico and Lucasi had brought grown-up business with them. And they had done things that dragged him into the adult fight. And he didn’t want that. Damn them.
He was thinking in ship-speak again. He did that sometimes when he was upset and wanted to think his own thoughts, privately, just to himself. He thought thoughts that nobody else around him could think, and he was glad they couldn’t.
And it would make Great-grandmother mad at him, because he was supposed to be atevi all the time now and forget about Gene and Artur and Irene and just be—
Grown-up. And mad. Along with everybody else.
No. That was not what Great-grandmother had said, more than once, often enough thumping his ear hard to make him remember.
Anger does not plan. When one Files with the Guild, one does not File Anger. One Files Intent, because one has thought clearly and seen a course of action. The Guild officers meet and decide to accept or not accept the Filing, and they will not accept it if the outcome destabilizes the aishidi’tat. That is their rule. It takes far more than anger to direct the aishidi’tat, boy. So do not sulk at me. Think! If you are a fool, your Filing will never be accepted. Your enemy’s may be more sensible. Think about that, too.
He had objected,
But I shall be aiji, and they have to accept it!
But I shall be aiji, and they have to accept it!
They do not!
mani had said.
Fool!
And his ear had been sore for days after he had said something that stupid.
mani had said.
Fool!
And his ear had been sore for days after he had said something that stupid.
So was nand’ Geigi on the phone Filing on the Maschi lord? Surely the Guild would
not
accept the Maschi lord Filing on nand’ Geigi, even in self-defense. That would destabilize the whole heavens.
not
accept the Maschi lord Filing on nand’ Geigi, even in self-defense. That would destabilize the whole heavens.
So the Maschi lord was really stupid for annoying Lord Geigi.
And was the Guild leadership meeting at this hour, and voting about that? Or was nand’ Geigi actually going to go to the Maschi holdings to make Lord Pairuti make a mistake and get a clear cause for Filing? Did he need to do that?
There were so many questions he wanted to ask someone. The world was a more dangerous place than the ship, that was sure.
But getting underfoot of his elders when serious things were underway was a way to get another sore ear, or worse, to be shipped back to his father in Shejidan—and that would mean dealing with his tutor, who would have a stack of lessons, not to mention Great-uncle Tatiseigi, who had moved in down the hall.
That was just gruesome—besides having mani and nand’ Bren in danger and not being able to know anything at all that was going on.
So he stayed good.
Mostly.
And fairly invisible.
He was not a follower, that was one thing; he was not designed to sit and wait. He would be aiji someday, and people would have to follow
him,
and that was the way he was born: mani said so.
him,
and that was the way he was born: mani said so.
And when he was aiji and the world was peaceful again he would go fishing when he wanted to and have his own boat.
Except his father never got to go fishing.
That was a grim thought.
He saw no way to change that. He wanted not to be shut in the way his father was.
But day by day he could feel atevi thoughts taking hold of him.
You will know,
Great-grandmother had told him when they were about to come down from the station.
When you are only with atevi, you will know things that will make sense to you in ways nobody can explain to you right now.
Great-grandmother had told him when they were about to come down from the station.
When you are only with atevi, you will know things that will make sense to you in ways nobody can explain to you right now.
He had doubted it. But he
did,
that was the scary thing. When he thought of all of it, he got really mad . . . so mad he wanted to go fight Machigi, who was at the center of all this. Mad at Lucasi and Veijico for being so snotty and
not
being impressed by him.
did,
that was the scary thing. When he thought of all of it, he got really mad . . . so mad he wanted to go fight Machigi, who was at the center of all this. Mad at Lucasi and Veijico for being so snotty and
not
being impressed by him.
Which was what he was supposed to feel, he supposed. It was what everybody expected of him. But in a way, it made him sad and upset.
Because he had much rather be out on the boat fishing, and not feel like that at all.
“Go back,” he told Antaro, “and keep listening. I want to know everything going on.”
15
I
t was the small hours, and with the house overburdened with guests and packing for what could either be a civilized argument or a small war prefacing a bigger one, there was, in a hot bath, one quiet refuge for the lord of the house. A folded, sodden towel on the marble tub rim became a pillow. Bren drowsed, was quite asleep, in fact—and wakened to a gentle slop of water and the awareness he was no longer alone in the ample pool.
t was the small hours, and with the house overburdened with guests and packing for what could either be a civilized argument or a small war prefacing a bigger one, there was, in a hot bath, one quiet refuge for the lord of the house. A folded, sodden towel on the marble tub rim became a pillow. Bren drowsed, was quite asleep, in fact—and wakened to a gentle slop of water and the awareness he was no longer alone in the ample pool.
He wiped his eyes with a soggy hand, and ran it through his hair. “How are things going, Jago-ji?”
Jago sighed, arrayed her arms along the tub rim, and tilted her head back, eyes shut. “One is satisfied, Bren-ji. Your cases are packed. As are ours. The bus is loaded. Tano and Algini have just come in, with Lord Geigi’s bodyguard. And we now have eight of the aiji-dowager’s own guard going with us.”
Eight. That was a considerable deployment of that elite company. But a worrisome one—depleting the dowager’s protection. The Edi might be an adequate backup over at Kajiminda, which had no attractive targets, but not at Najida, where the aiji-dowager
and
the aiji’s heir were situated. “One is astonished,” he said moderately, “and honored. But what about provision for the aiji-dowager’s force?”
and
the aiji’s heir were situated. “One is astonished,” he said moderately, “and honored. But what about provision for the aiji-dowager’s force?”
“Discreetly placed. They are here about the house, Bren-ji, is all we should say. Even here.”
He drew a deep breath. He had run on too little sleep. The cavernous bath seemed to echo with their voices. Or they were ringing in his head.
He had a dread of this venture upcoming . . . this venture specifically designed to provoke an attack from somebody—and they weren’t sure who.
He wished he had any other team to throw into it besides Banichi and Jago, besides Tano and Algini. He didn’t want to risk their lives this way—all for a pack of damned conniving scoundrels, and a clan too weak to say no to bad neighbors, too self-interested to have seen what kind of a game they were playing. He seriously considered, truly considered for the first time, Filing Intent himself and seeing if political influence could speed the motion through the Guild without it hanging up on regional politics.
But the paidhi
didn’t
File Intent: that was the point of his office—he was neutral. He
had
no political vantage.
didn’t
File Intent: that was the point of his office—he was neutral. He
had
no political vantage.
Until Tabini made him a district lord. Dammit.
Geigi didn’t want to File on his own clan lord—even if he outranked his clan lord in the aishidi’tat. It was a point of honor, a sticky point, the long-held fiction of Geigi’s being
inside
that clan. Bringing that fiction down would rebound onto clan honor—or make Tabini
have
to inquire, officially. And the plain point was—when there was a quarrel
inside
a clan, things were supposed to be settled, however bloodily, without recourse to the Assassins’ Guild, except those already serving within the house.
inside
that clan. Bringing that fiction down would rebound onto clan honor—or make Tabini
have
to inquire, officially. And the plain point was—when there was a quarrel
inside
a clan, things were supposed to be settled, however bloodily, without recourse to the Assassins’ Guild, except those already serving within the house.
So they were going in, with Geigi’s aishid running the operation. They were going to
get
a provocation, or get a resignation, or get a direct appeal from Lord Pairuti for Geigi’s support against the neighbors . . . and the matter was so damned tangled it was hard to predict from here just what they’d get from the man.
get
a provocation, or get a resignation, or get a direct appeal from Lord Pairuti for Geigi’s support against the neighbors . . . and the matter was so damned tangled it was hard to predict from here just what they’d get from the man.
Things echoed back surreally. He had a feeling of being momentarily out of body, looking down on him and Jago, at a point of decision that he could critique, from that mental distance. From here, he knew how dangerous their situation was, and how they could make mistakes that would cost their lives, cost the aiji the stability of the aishidi’tat, and leave the whole atevi civilization vulnerable. Civil war was the least of the bad outcomes that could flow from the decisions he was making—on too little sleep, too little information, and with deniability on the part of Tabini-aiji. Cenedi had talked about calling in certain forces under his own command: but Cenedi’s focus was, when all was said and done, the dowager, and the heir.
The most important thing right now was Tabini’s survival, Tabini’s power. There was, God forbid, even a second heir. Or would be. The aishidi’tat would survive losing anybody—the out-of-body detachment let him think that unthinkable thought—
anybody
except Tabini, because in this generation there was no leader
but
Tabini that could hold the aishidi’tat together.
anybody
except Tabini, because in this generation there was no leader
but
Tabini that could hold the aishidi’tat together.
So Tabini had to survive.
All the rest of them were expendable, on that terrible scale.
He was exhausted. His mind was spinning into dire territory. He was scared, but he was so far down that path he didn’t see an alternative.
Maybe it was a failure of vision. Maybe he should go to the phone, shove it all off on Tabini and let him deal with it.
But he couldn’t see that ending productively.
And Geigi couldn’t go in alone. Geigi was willing to do it, but
hell
if they could afford to wave that target past the attention of their enemies.
hell
if they could afford to wave that target past the attention of their enemies.
So there they were. They had to go in, hoping to frighten Pairuti into cooperating.
He leaned his head back on the towel-cushioned rim and shut his eyes, wondering if his mind and Jago’s were on the same grim track. The water was going a little cold. He moved finally, reached, and turned on the hot water. The current flowed in, palpably warm.
“Has one been a fool, Jago-ji, to get into this situation?”
“Not a fool,” Jago said. “Banichi does not think so.”
“Do you?”
“No, Bren-ji. One would not think so—even if it were proper to think. This is overdue.”
“On this coast?”
“In the whole quarter of the aishidi’tat—this is overdue.”
“What is the Guild’s temperature? Can you say?”
“Favorable, in this,” Jago said. He had half expected she wouldn’t answer. But she did. And he felt better.
“I have ceded our bed to Lord Geigi,” he said apologetically. Jago had gotten no more sleep than he had—less, if one counted falling asleep in the bathtub. “But this is comfortable.”
“I have located a place,” Jago said. “A solitary place. In the servants’ wing.”
That was clearly a proposition. A decided proposition. He smiled wearily and decided maybe—maybe both of them could benefit from distraction.
So he shut down the hot water and looked for his bathrobe.
16
T
he bus was loaded with luggage and gear. It waited under the portico, sleek and modern, pristine except the track of bullet holes across its windshield. Lord Geigi’s four bodyguards had caught a little sleep before breakfast—and Cook had scrambled to feed them handsomely, not to mention the rest of the household. The Lord of Najida and his guest would not go off unfed.
he bus was loaded with luggage and gear. It waited under the portico, sleek and modern, pristine except the track of bullet holes across its windshield. Lord Geigi’s four bodyguards had caught a little sleep before breakfast—and Cook had scrambled to feed them handsomely, not to mention the rest of the household. The Lord of Najida and his guest would not go off unfed.
And, after breakfast, there were calls to make: on Toby, to be sure he was well. Cajeiri, poor lad, had argued to have his breakfast at his appointed post, and now was fast asleep in his chair, his bodyguard tiptoeing about to avoid waking him or Toby.
For Toby he left a note—in Ragi, in care of Antaro, for Cajeiri to read, since Mospheiran script was not one of Cajeiri’s many skills. It said:
Brother, Ragi cannot truly express all the sentiments I have this morning. Please take care and follow instructions. We believe that the move we are making will turn up information on Barb’s whereabouts and lead to finding her, though it may not be simple. We are sparing no effort and we expect eventual success. Think of me as I shall be thinking of you.
Brother, Ragi cannot truly express all the sentiments I have this morning. Please take care and follow instructions. We believe that the move we are making will turn up information on Barb’s whereabouts and lead to finding her, though it may not be simple. We are sparing no effort and we expect eventual success. Think of me as I shall be thinking of you.
He had a last look, in case Toby should have waked—he had not—and left quietly.
Last—a call on the aiji-dowager and Cenedi.
He walked alone into the dowager’s sitting room, where the dowager was having an after-breakfast cup of tea, and bowed very deeply.
“Aiji-ma,” he said, and received, uncharacteristically, a gesture to approach closely. He did so, and knelt down at the side of Ilisidi’s chair as if he were a second grandson. Cenedi stood up, by the mantel.
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