Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (5 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

BOOK: Deceiver: Foreigner #11
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Tabini turned about. “I shall reason with him, I say, since reason is
one
art he is not learning from his great-grandmother!”
“Ha!” Ilisidi cried, and a wise human just stood very still, while Tabini peeled his bodyguard out of the row by the wall and headed out the door.
“Where is my son?”
resounded in the hall. The staff doubtless provided Tabini a fast answer. Bren hoped so, for the honor of his house.
As it was, he had inadvertently made himself and his guard part of the scene. Getting out of the dowager’s immediate area might be a good idea at the moment, but it was not that easy to accomplish.
“Are we unreasonable?” the dowager asked him, not rhetorically, turning a burning gaze on him, and either answer was treasonable.
2
 
“Y
our father is here,” Jegari had reported some time past, warning enough, and a wise son who did not wish to be flown back to the capital and confined to his father’s apartment with his tutor for the rest of his life had immediately taken the warning and improved his appearance.
Cajeiri had on his best brown brocade coat, and his shirt lace was crisp and immaculate. His queue was tied with the red and black Ragi colors—his father’s colors, politic choice of the four, even five heraldries he could legitimately claim. His boots were polished, his fingernails were clean, and he had, after the rush of preparation, quietened his breathless hurry and achieved a serene calm even his great-grandmother would approve of.
He had, besides, accepted his father’s choice of bodyguards: he had already had Jegari and Antaro, a brother and sister out of Taiben province in the Padi Valley—those two were not properly Assassins’ Guild yet, and could not wear the uniform, so they looked like domestic staff, but they were his senior bodyguard. He insisted so. And his junior staff, the ones his father had just sent—Lucasi and Veijico, another brother and sister, really
were
Guild, and actually five years older. They were in their formal uniforms, black leather and silver, and looked really proper.
So he could muster a real household, and there was no laundry tossed over chair backs and no stray teacup awaiting house staff to pick it up (nand’ Bren’s staff never let things sit around) so the premises was immaculate, too. He was well ahead of his father’s arrival when he heard the commotion of an approach outside.
His father’s guard knocked once—ordinary procedure—and did not have to fling the door open themselves, since Jegari did a majordomo’s job and beat the man to it. The door whisked open, Jegari bowing, and there was the bodyguard, and his father.
The guard walked in and disposed themselves on either side of the door. His own bodyguard, official and not, came to formal attention. His father walked in and stopped, looking critically about the room—which actually looked like a real household, Cajeiri thought, bowing with particular satisfaction, even a little selfassurance at his own arrangements. Father had
not
caught him at a disadvantage. For infelicitous eight going on fortunate nine, he had not disgraced himself, or Great-grandmother, or nand’ Bren.
“Honored Father,” he said respectfully, completely collected.
“My elusive son,” his father said.
Bait. Cajeiri declined it, simply bowing a second time. Arguing with his father from the outset would
not
get what he wanted, which was to stay exactly where he was, in nand’ Bren’s house. He did
not want
to be dragged back to the capital and locked away in his rooms with his tutor. He had made mistakes, but he had remedied them. He was in good order.
Surely
his father was not going to haul him off in embarrassment.
“Your great-grandmother thinks you should stay here,” his father said. “You have worried your mother, who is not pleased, not to mention you have set off your great-uncle, who has had to be restrained from coming out to the coast . . . need I say with
what
detriment to the delicate peace in this whole district?”
That
was
a threat. Uncle Tatiseigi was not inclined to be polite to anybody who was not of very high rank,
and
attached to the clans and causes he personally approved. There was a long, long list of people Uncle Tatiseigi did not approve of.
“That would not help nand’ Bren or Great-grandmother, honored Father.” A third, smaller bow. “We understand. We are attempting to be quiet and useful.”
“By stealing a freight train and a sailboat?”
A fourth bow. “My honored father exaggerates the freight train. But we admit the sailboat. We deeply apologize for the sailboat.”
His father let go an exasperated sigh and walked over to the desk and the darkened window, which was stormshuttered because of snipers, which were still a constant possibility. Out in the hall, and faintly even in here, one could still smell new lacquer, where they had fixed bullet holes.
So it was not quite safe. His father surveyed the room—then, embarrassingly, as if he were a child, flung open the inner door and had a look in the bedroom. The bed in there was made and there was nothing out of place. He was very glad they had not just tossed stray items in there.
His father walked back again, set fists on hips and looked down at him. “The staff is keeping you in good state.”
“Nand’ Bren has a very good staff,” he said. “And we try to be no trouble to them at all.”
“Ha.” His father had been arguing with Great-grandmother. He was still mad. That was clear. But he was not being unreasonable.
Then his father asked: “Do you have the
least
notion what is at stake on this coast?”
He
did
know that answer. He had listened when his elders talked, because it
was
important. “The Edi people are connected to the Gan, up the coast in the Islands and the north coast. The Edi and the Gan both used to live on the island of Mospheira, before the humans landed, and now because we Ragi gave the island to humans, they live on our coast, which the Marid used to think they owned.”
“Did
they own it?”
He knew that answer, too. “No, honored Father. The Marid claimed the whole southern half of the west coast, but an association of local clans owned it. The Marid had tried to bully all the clans that were here. Then the Edi came in, and the Edi got along with the local clans well enough, especially since the Edi helped throw the Marid out and back into their own territory. Then the Edi fought among themselves, mostly, until Great-grandfather put a Maschi clan lord in charge of the coast and created Sarini Province. And now that Lord Geigi of the Maschi has been in space all these years and his nephew has turned out to be a total fool, the Marid thinks they can get back onto the west coast, which is what nand’ Bren and Great-grandmother just stopped. And the Edi are all upset with the Marid, but they are grateful, too, to nand’ Bren and Great-grandmother, which is why they wanted to talk—nand’ Bren is their neighbor, and they feel an association there, and they really respect elder people, especially elder ladies, and, besides—” He was getting too many “ands,” which Great-grandmother said was undignified, so he tried to amend it. “Besides, Great-grandmother has influence with you, she is an associate of Lord Geigi, too, and her own province is on the other side of the world, so she would be a very smart alliance for them. They know s
he
would not want their land. And she is associated with nand’ Bren, so there is a local connection.”
His father bent an absolutely dispassionate face toward him, which, since he doubted his father had reason to lose his temper further than he had already lost it, probably meant that his father was actually amused at his account. One might take offense at that, because he had tried hard to understand what was going on—except it was certainly better than his father losing his temper.
“Tolerably well-reckoned,” his father said. “But there is risk in staying here, boy, which agitates your great-uncle considerably. Not to mention your mother.”
“If the Edi fall out of the aishidi’tat and the Marid starts fighting them, there will be a lot of assassinations, and
you
could be in danger, honored Father, even in the capital, not to mention other people who will get hurt all over the place. If the Edi clan protects this coast and it allies to the Gan and to Great-grandmother in the East, that will annoy some people, but it will make this coast stronger, so the Marid can never come in here again. And if nand’ Bren had
not
found out the Marid were plotting to take Kajiminda, then the Taisigi of the Marid would have gotten a claim to it. And they would have killed off the Maschi one at a time until they got somebody else stupid like Baiji to make a treaty with them. And then you would have to come in and fight them and it would have been a
much
bigger mess than having the Edi as allies and letting them have a house of their own.”
“Clever, clever boy. All your great-grandmother’s arguments in a pleasant package.”
It was not time to be pert with his father. Not at all. Cajeiri made a judicious bow.
“Do you already know you are about to become the elder of my offspring?” his father asked him then, which took a second thought, and rapidly three and four. “Is that what has prompted this current adventurism?”
Elder? As in—two? And with the same mother? Surely with his mother! He would be very upset if his father ended the contract with his mother and she went away. And Uncle Tatiseigi would be furious.
“No, honored Father. Is the mother
my
mother?”
“The same,” his father said, immediately relieving him of one huge concern.
“Am I to have a brother?” That could be good or bad. He had no idea. It could be fun.
“Or a sister,” his father said.
Among humans, one apparently had a way of telling. But either was important news. It affected his place in the world, but not too much, since the parentage was all the same two clans, Ragi and his mother’s Ajuri clan.
And having a baby of the same heritage might divert his mother
and
his great-uncle from excessive worry about him, which could be good.
But—
—which would not be good—
Great-grandmother would have another greatgrandchild to fuss over, who would get all the favors.
That
was not to be tolerated. That thought got his blood to racing.
He really,
really
did not want to share Great-grandmother’s attention. Or nand’ Bren’s. He was not going to share. No.
“We would rather have told you under calmer circumstances,” his father said, “and we would have done so in very short order, in fact, so you would not hear it first from other sources. But you left the capital.”
“Does Great-grandmother know it?”
A snort. “There is nothing your great-grandmother fails to know. Study that woman’s information-gathering. It is highly efficient.”
“She did not know we were going into a trap at Kajiminda.”
His father flung up a hand. “Say no more on that score! One has heard quite enough of that argument!”
He bowed, not knowing what had annoyed his father, but he was sure that something had, something to do with that incident.
And whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the truly important fact—namely that his parents were having another baby.
That possibly made him a little less valuable to some people. It meant if someone did away with him, his father would still have an heir. He supposed that was a good thing.
It meant somebody else would be available for people to watch and fuss over, which was definitely good. His father only had so many security resources. And that meant more freedom for him.
But it also meant he had to be
better,
in everything, or people would say his sib was better, which was already unfair.
It meant he was going to have to
work
and stay ahead forever. Or else.
That
was a threat . . . a threat a lot more personal than the Marid posed by shooting at him. He never, ever wanted anybody to say his younger sib was better than him at anything.
Great-grandmother said if he was able to deal with the Edi because of meeting them and talking to them, that would be an asset for the future. And he was very sure that if they could settle the Marid’s ambitions that would be an asset for everybody’s future.
And he was not going to give up any assets he had. Not now. Not with competition on the way.
“Your great-grandmother says you can use common sense when you understand a danger is real,” his father said in that no-nonsense voice he had. “One suggests you consider that the danger in this entire district is quite real.”
“One has very well comprehended that, honored Father.”
“Continue to comprehend it,” his father said. “And obey knowledgeable elders!”
He was going to get to stay! “Yes,” he said triumphantly—but not too triumphantly. Nothing was safe until his father actually left him here in his great-grandmother’s keeping. And then he could
do
things to secure his future and the aishidi’tat’s. He would be important. He would make himself important—given a head start.

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