Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (47 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

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“The lady is my brother-of-the-same-parents’ wife, to put the situation simply, nandi, a naïve woman of no political connections.”
Machigi smiled, and took up the cup for a final sip, then set it down. “Let us get down to business, nand’ paidhi.”
Bren nodded and did the same, schooling his face to absolute calm. His chest hurt. Breaths hurt, but he kept them regular. He had managed not a tremor in setting his cup down, and diverted his thoughts from Barb and Toby, from Najida and those at risk there, even from his bodyguard standing behind him. And quietly smiled back. “One is very glad to do so, nandi. Shall I give you the dowager’s message exactly as it came to me?”
“Do you have it?”
He reached carefully inside his coat pocket . . . the one that did not involve a loaded pistol . . . and handed the folded paper across.
Machigi took it in a scarred hand and read it. He had a young face, lean, hard, that scar on the chin a streak on his dark skin that ran quite far under the chin as well, as if someone had once tried to cut his throat. An interesting wound, that.
Machigi read, folded it in the agile fingers of one hand and handed it back, laying it on the small service table between them.
“The dowager does not have a reputation for such easy trust.”
“The dowager, nandi, sees what I see: a situation in which your associated subordinates cannot profit while you exist. You exert an authority they must surely view as dominating theirs, as your interests take precedence over theirs. This is not, in the dowager’s view, a bad situation—keeping the Marid from wasteful wars.”
“An interesting analysis, paidhi.”
“Accurate, I think. It would also be accurate to say that the Marid has long had a quarrel with the aishidi’tat, from its formation, a quarrel regarding the balance of powers in the association. The dowager believes there is a way around this situation with honor.”
“Enlighten us.”
“One is certain you see it, nandi, but I shall declare it: association of the entire Marid with Ilisidi of Malguri, an association to be, so far as the Marid, under your leadership.”
He had actually surprised Machigi, and Machigi let him see it. That was both good and bad.
“A pleasant notion,” Machigi said, “but your own man’chi is to Tabini of the Ragi.”
“My longtime association is to the aiji-dowager as well, and one might recall, nandi, the aiji’s cooperation with his grandmother in providing that force now sitting on the bus, and her providing it to me. What she has done is not done in the dark.”
“So, also with his knowledge, she has made a grab for Maschi territory and taken the Edi in as well.”
“Neither with his foreknowledge, but with his tolerance, nandi. She has made good on old debts, dating back many decades, even before her grandson’s birth, but she has not made any hostile move against Tanaja, nor does she wish to do so, having no territorial interest in doing so. This is one advantage, allow me to suggest, of forming outside associations that do
not
run into the troubled old territory of the central clans. The dowager’s lands are distant and, so far as Tanaja is concerned, untrammeled by old debts, except the two obligations on which she has already stood firm. If you should accept her invitation to become her associate, nandi, you may expect similar firmness of alliance, which can cast many old disputes into an entirely different framework of negotiation. Her grandson values her for this quality, and, one may say, respects her alliances.”
A lengthy silence, then a drawled: “You have an extraordinary forwardness of address, paidhi-aiji.”
“You also have that reputation, nandi, as a man who does not cling blindly to precedent. The dowager values this quality, and suggests it should not be wasted.” He saw that look of thought. It was not the time to lose it. “The plain fact is, I
am
here, nandi, meeting with you in confidence, and accurately relaying the dowager’s objectives, which are favorable to a negotiation at this point, thus preventing Guild action from destabilizing the Marid. That is the bottom line.”
“What is her offer?” Machigi asked bluntly.
“Alliance,” Bren said with equal bluntness. “Association. New times, new thinking, horizons not limited to this earth.”
“Access,” Machigi said, “to the orbiting station.”
“That
will
happen, nandi,” Bren said. “One has no doubt of it, granted association exists.”
“You do not ask further into your own associate’s whereabouts or welfare.”
“A personal matter. I am here in an official capacity.”
“Indeed,” Machigi said, leaning back in his chair. “Yet you represent the aiji in Shejidan.”
“By courtesy, I represent only his grandmother, who
does
however, hold independent association in the East.”
Machigi looked to the side, to one of his bodyguard, and back again, eye to eye and steadily.
“Independence
is an interesting position to hold.”
“Propose it, nandi. Independence of the district within the aishidi’tat. One does not say it will be rejected. But,” he added sharply, “in order to claim such a position for the Marid, you need an authority equal to the dowager’s authority over the East.”
“She was challenged as recently as this fall.”
“With notable lack of success, nandi. And the East is both hers, and an independent district, with its native rights and prerogatives intact.”
Another lengthy silence. “Have you dined, paidhi-aiji?”
“I have not, nandi.”
Machigi snapped his fingers. Servants moved into view. “The paidhi-aiji and his aishid will have the guest suite tonight. His company on the bus may be housed in the east wing with whatever equipment they choose to offload.”
Crisis. Bren gave a deep nod. “A courtesy much appreciated, nandi, but the bus is self-contained, and my company on the bus is prepared to attend their own needs. One hopes, as negotiations proceed, I shall have other instructions from the aiji-dowager, for their comfort, but for right now, despite your generous gesture, my indications from the dowager suggest my request would not be honored. They are, once we quit the bus, much more under her direct command.”
A little steel flicked through that glance. “It is blocking the drive, nand’ paidhi. Our suggestion is simple expediency.”
“If you request the bus moved somewhat, I am sure we can comply with that very quickly, nandi.”
“Let it stay,” Machigi said with a wave of his hand. “But where is this trust, nand’ paidhi? This offer of association?”
“I have yet to convey your reply to the dowager, nandi. Everything comes from her. When she wishes my company to stand down and leave the bus, it will stand down. But as for myself and my aishid, we are extremely appreciative of the hospitality of your household.”
Machigi gave a dark little laugh and stood up. “Follow my servants, and join us in the dining room in an hour. Your aishid may attend your baggage.”
“Delighted,” Bren said, stood, and bowed in turn. In fact he was delighted—delighted there hadn’t been a shootout. Delighted Machigi hadn’t pulled that trigger. Delighted Machigi had sounded as intelligent—though also as dangerous—as reports said he was.
And that bit about attending the baggage—no lord in his right mind would have his belongings taken off that bus, put into the hands of servants of a hostile house, and taken into his room. Two of his staff would handle it all the way from the bus to the rooms, while Machigi’s staff watched with equal care to be sure that clothes were
all
that came into the house.
The servants gestured the way to the side door. Banichi and Jago went with him, Tano and Algini split themselves off to attend the matter of the baggage, and Bren walked just behind the two servants who led the way—a short distance, he was glad to see, and up only a single flight of stairs. He knew where the front door and the bus were from here, at least.
But that was
not
the knowledge that was going to get them out of this.
The servants opened the doors to a magnificent suite, mostly in sea-green and gold, with pale furniture, and led the way through to a fine bedroom, even with its own bath, an uncommon amenity.
“Very fine, nadiin,” he pronounced it.
“Would you care for a fire lit in the sitting-room, nandi?” one asked. “It will grow chill before morning.”
“Please do,” he said, and looked at Banichi and Jago, just a questioning glance to know their opinion of the arrangements.
Banichi simply nodded. No question every room was bugged to more and less degrees, right down to the bath. He didn’t need a word on that score. He simply sat down in a comfortable chair, rested his booted feet carefully on the footstool, and waited, while Banichi and Jago went into that statuelike quiet of their profession, just watching the servants at work.
The fire came to life. And other servants came in, carrying a modest amount of luggage, with Tano and Algini in close attendance.
“Set it in the bedroom, nadiin,” Jago said, “with thanks. That will do.”
There were bows, very inexpressive faces gave them a last lookover, and the servants retreated out the door.
At which point they would of course be fools to say everything they were thinking.
“How are things outside, nadiin-ji?” he asked Tano and Algini.
“Well enough, nandi,” Algini said, and that little formality said he was likewise thinking of bugs. “We have passed word where we are and wished them a quiet night.”
“One hopes it will be,” Bren said, and cast a look up at Banichi and Jago. “Well done?” he asked in the alien kyo language.
“Yes,” Banichi said, and Jago echoed the same.
Tano and Algini had gained a little of the language. They had made earnest efforts at it. And of all means of communication they had, that was the only one no codecracker could manage.
But one had no desire to frustrate their hosts. It was only a confirmation: he had done what he could, gotten them this far, and God, he wished he could discuss Machigi frankly with his aishid, but their vocabulary in kyo didn’t extend that far, nor did it bear on the intricacies of atevi psychology. All he had for comfort was that one yes: they were alive, they were not too likely to be poisoned at dinner—which his aishid would not share—and, disturbingly enough, he had some indication Machigi held some answer to the
other
matter he had come out here to pursue, namely what had happened to Barb.
He couldn’t ask. Ethically and in terms of simple common sense, he couldn’t make Barb an issue in this.
“One had best dress for the occasion,” he said, and got up and went to the bedroom. The packed clothes had been layered with fine silk, which kept them from being too disreputable on being shaken out. The court coat, being heavily figured brocade, had not suffered much. The shirt was a little the worse for its trip in baggage, but with the coat on, the wrinkles would not show; and a fresh ribbon for the queue always improved a gentleman’s appearance: those came carefully wound on a paper spool.
Beyond that—the boots could use a dusting. Tano saw to that, and to everyone else’s; and ribbons were renewed, Guild leathers dusted with a prepared cloth. They all went from slightly traveled to ready for dinner in a quarter hour, with no conversation to speak of, except a light discussion of the recently dry weather and the quantity of dust, plus the likelihood of rain, since there had been clouds in the west . . . all disappointing material for eavesdroppers, but far from surprising. Guild could convey information by the pressure of fingers on a shoulder, and Bren had no doubt information and instruction was passing that he did not receive. He knew the all-well signal, and got it from Jago as she helped him adjust his shirt-cuffs.
It was even possible that short-range communication was working, in a set of prearranged signals going to and from the bus. It was remarkable if the Taisigi had allowed it. It was certain, if it was going on, that the Taisigi were monitoring it and attempting to decipher it. But evidently the bus was still all right, as far as any of his staff could tell.
“One hopes,” Bren said cheerfully, actually hoping it would be reported, “that their cook knows about human sensitivities. One would hate to have negotiations fail with the paidhi-aiji accidentally poisoned.”
“This is a worry to us, as well, Bren-ji,” Jago said.
“Well, well, I shall have to avoid the sauces and stay to what I can identify,” he said. “Wine is safe. I am safe with what I can recognize. Things cooked together in sauce—well, one hopes there are alternatives, or we stay to the bread.”
That
might send an honest majordomo scurrying to the kitchen to be sure his lord’s guest had alternatives—or send him to the references to find out what human sensitivities actually were. He thought worriedly of Barb, somewhere unknown, and
hoped
she was safe and that whoever was feeding her knew humans didn’t find a moderate level of alkaloids a pleasant addition to a dish.
“A quarter hour,” Banichi said aloud, reminding them all of the time.

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