Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (37 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

BOOK: Deceiver: Foreigner #11
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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
 
M
ani 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 orders, 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
 
T
he 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.
“I have not seen Targai since I was a boy,” Geigi said to Bren. “It has not changed. Not visibly. Except for the antenna. And the power lines.”
One of Geigi’s bodyguard said: “Best sit down, nandi. For safety.”
Geigi sat down. The bus kept up its steady pace toward the gate.
At any moment, literally at any moment, they might come under fire. And as yet nobody had said that the non-Guild among them should get down on the floor.
“Should one not get down at this point?” Bren asked Jago.
“We have surveillance on the grounds, Bren-ji. But if you would feel safer, do so.”
“The aiji’s men are already here?”
Jago shrugged. It fell under the heading of not discussing Guild operations, but one began to regard those ancient towers in a different light. He had the very uncomfortable vest on—leaving his head vulnerable, but that was, he hoped, a significantly smaller target, and one did not expect the paidhi-aiji to be wearing body armor.
He sat where he was, behind opaque windows, as the bus pulled into the drive and trundled on around to the great house.
A pair of Guildsmen in black exited the house—placing themselves in great jeopardy. And if those were not the aiji’s, Bren thought, his pulse racing a bit, they were likely native to the region, and deeply loyal, to be exposing themselves like that—granted they knew about the Filing.
Their own situation was potentially looking up—or getting far worse . . . because that brave gesture of peace politely required another, reciprocal gesture, which—he felt a rising tide of apprehension—had to come from Guild of similar rank, unless they meant to wade in shooting.
The bus braked. Banichi and Jago got up, and Bren bit his lip and
knew
who had to deal with this welcoming committee.
He leaned forward, himself. “Nadiin-ji,” he said. “Tell Lord Pairuti he has a safe refuge with the paidhi-aiji if he will take it. Tell them so, urgently.”
Jago listened, then inclined her head once, grimly, before the door opened and she followed Banichi off the bus—Tano and Algini taking up position with leveled rifles behind them in the doorway thus exposed.
The bus door faced the welcoming committee. There were weapons in evidence on the other side, but not drawn.
And wherever Tabini’s men were, it was not, at the moment, here, where such a threatening presence would have been very useful.
One of the pair said—Bren could hear it clearly: “Stand there, nadi.”
And Banichi answered her: “Advise Lord Pairuti, nadi, that he has an offer of safety and personal intercession from the paidhi-aiji. Your lord, we believe, is aware of the Filing of Intent.”
“He is aware of it, nadi.”
There was a moment of silence, then. Bren could not entirely see what was happening because of the doorframe, but he saw Jago standing quite, quite still, with her hand ominously near her sidearm.
“There is a signal passed, Bren-ji,” Tano said without diverting his eyes from their potential targets. “Banichi has asked whether they are under duress. They have responded they are under internal threat.”
Handsigns, that silent language of the Guild.
They had a problem, then. Marid agents—in the house. These two were out here in a desperate bid to negotiate . . .
Either that, or these two were lying and intended to set them up.
Tano said, sharply, “Bren-ji, up! Get off the bus. We are taking the house.”
Damn! Bren thought, and flung himself to his feet and around the rail to reach the steps with Tano and Algini right with him. He thought he was going to run for the doors. But Tano seized him around the ribs in one arm and outright carried him to the front of the house, setting him down to the side of the entry as Banichi and Jago kicked wide the half-open house doors and fired one volley down the hall.
Then they were not alone. From cover of somewhere—the ornamental bushes down the drive, the ancient, crumbled masonry beyond, God knew—there suddenly appeared other black uniforms, guns lifted, signal of peace.
Tabini’s men, Bren thought, heart lifting.
The two local Guild meanwhile turned their backs to the situation, hands held outward, a declaration they were not going to contest the takeover, Bren saw with a sideward glance. He felt sorry for them: they were in a hell of a situation, relying on
his
word there was a chance to save their lord.
But if the wrong word came out of the house, those two would fight. And die without a chance.
Geigi’s guard had reached the door of the house just a little ahead of Geigi himself reaching Bren’s position. The bodyguard had their rifles aimed generally up, but a scant heartbeat from going level and wreaking destruction down the hall.
Tano and Algini kept themselves in the way, cutting off view of any proceedings inside the building, while Banichi and Jago continued to issue orders from just inside. Nobody had touched the two local Guildsmen, who had not moved in all this, not a muscle.
“Lord Pairuti is offered the paidhi-aiji’s intercession!” Banichi’s voice rang down the hall. “Let him come out and surrender to the paidhi-aiji!”

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