Betrayer: Foreigner #12 (22 page)

Especially a bodyguard who really knew how to use a gun.

The world was getting scary. That was the truth. And it was moving fast. And it wasn’t a good morning. Not at all.

 

“Poisoning us,” Bren said, faced with what was a truly attractive service, and with the servants still in the room, “is a process of inconveniently many steps, though conservative of the furniture. One believes we may just have breakfast this morning, nadiin-ji. One believes your lines of communication with the kitchen are either accurate, or they are not.”

“Still,” Jago said.

But Bren sat down, and Machigi’s servants hastened to pour tea, the first time they had admitted the servants to serve a meal: Machigi said they were handpicked. It deserved, in Bren’s estimation, acknowledgement of that fact. “Sit with me,” he asked his own guard. “Provide me your company. We have done all we can do, or at least I have, nadiin-ji, and at this point I can only wait. If we are so far misreading things, there is no help for us.”

Which was not altogether disingenuous, since it was a deliberate bravado and utter suspension of their discretion. At this point their best protection was Machigi’s belief in their frankness, and too much quiet in the suite was an indication things were passing hand to hand—as they had.

It
was
a fine breakfast, probably Machigi’s own ordinary menu, and with warnings from the servants: “The green dishes, nand’ paidhi, are those your staff has listed as unpalatable to you.”

“One is grateful,” he said. So nice to have the poisons inventively labeled, in very lovely emerald green dishes that were probably from another, equally elegant, set. “Such a graceful solution to the difficulty. My compliments to the staff, and I shall recommend it to my own household.”

“One will relay the sentiment, nandi,” the senior servant answered.

It tasted as good as it smelled, a plethora of eggs and smoked fish—not originally to his taste, but over the years he had come to appreciate good preparations, and this was the best. The bread was hot and fresh from baking. The fruit jelly was delicious. He overdid a little, having lived mostly on tea and toast until now. Best take food when one could. A lot of it.

After breakfast, the hall was full of Machigi’s guards, and God knew what was afoot elsewhere—phone calls and radio were flying hither and yon, mostly southward and shore to ship, one could imagine. Machigi had two allies, the southern clans and those ships that plied the harbor; and if he could rely on them, he would be advising them in whatever terms and codes he had at hand.

That was all Machigi’s to do.

The paidhi was, in effect, down to a role more as hostage than as mediator, since their exterior protection was in Machigi’s hands, and in the hands of his bodyguard—and in the fact that the Guild would exact a heavy price from whatever agency was proved to have assassinated the paidhi-aiji. It was not great comfort, that thought.

As for Guild policy in Shejidan, it had either gone a hundred eighty degrees about face, and Machigi’s survival was the new policy, at Tabini’s urging—or the Guild was taking its own course, and even Tabini might not know what would happen until it happened.

Lord Tori was not likely to see the sundown today.

Possibly he had given similar orders regarding Machigi.

The remaining worry regarded collateral damage. The Guild tried not to have that many. The renegades didn’t give a damn, by the available evidence.

The next number of hours could determine not only who would rule the Marid but which direction the whole aishidi’tat might go. One hoped the central Guild stuck fast by its regulations and took care about its targets, and did
not
overly destabilize the Marid.

Not even mentioning the often forgotten fact that there were aliens in the heavens whose perception of the stability and therefore worth of negotiations with the atevi might also hang in the balance. Ineffably frustrating—to know that was the case and not to be able to make ground-bound atevi understand how very serious the situation was.

He did not want to die. He had a lot of things he had to do. He had people who depended on him, not least of them the four who shared the table with him.

So. Well.

It was a delicate process—convincing Machigi that there was getting to be a level of trust on his side, so maybe Machigi’s level of trust of him could increase a shade.

And if not—the whole house of cards could collapse, and not just in the Marid.

M
ani and Lord Geigi were not discussing nand’ Bren or the Marid, when Cajeiri brimmed over with the need to know what was happening. They sat discussing what had happened with the Parithi, two of whom had come on the bus, intending, Lord Geigi said, to stay current with what was going on here at Najida and over at Kajiminda because
they
were taking over Targai, with all its traditions and its antique treasures, just everything, all at once.

That was a new enough idea to catch at least the edge of Cajeiri’s attention and to make him think about it. Clans were as old as the rocks and the trees, and clans just went on and on, and figured out some way to stay alive and in authority. Cajeiri had memorized lists and lists of clans by districts, and he could not remember any clan that had actually totally died out, well, except in the War of the Landing. If they went down, they were usually absorbed by a larger clan, like the Maladesi, who had used to have Najida before Lord Bren got it.

But Maschi clan, as ruled by its own house, had come that close to extinction. And Lord Geigi was not interested in staying on the planet and getting an heir. “Just ship my fool nephew to Malguri,” was the way Lord Geigi put it, with shocking bluntness, “and let him do the only thing he can do for the bloodline, and be damned to him. Forgive me, aiji-ma, but the whole of Maschi clan is down to an old man, a fool, and a collection of ambitious hangers-on who were too damned close to my cousin to be trusted.”

That was even more shocking. Cajeiri had never heard such language. Mani, however, just nodded and agreed to that idea, which shocked him even more. He was still thinking it over when Nawari brought in an old man of the Parithi, whose grandmother, Geigi explained, had been married once to a Maschi lord, so he
could
be Maschi in a side descent—nobody had ever been sure, and it was nearly a hundred fifty years ago anyway.

His name was Haidi, just Haidi, which was not a lordly kind of name, but he would be Haidiri if mani approved the idea.

“Haidiri,” mani said, then, to the old man. “On our old associate’s recommendation, and
his
recommendation is enough, you should find no difficulty with my grandson.”

“Aiji-ma!” the old man said, bowing profoundly. And it was odd: a year ago it had been hard to tell when strangers were lying, but one came to be smarter about it, and this old man seemed to feel what he was saying.

Mani lost no time taking advantage of it, either. “At this moment, Maschi territory is the underbelly of the aishidi’tat, through which the association can uphold itself in strength or suffer a grievous wound. You will be in danger, nand’ Haidiri, you and your house. You will be in great danger, and you will immediately require strong Guild protection. The Senji and the Taisigin Marid have viewed your district as theirs. You must disabuse them of that notion, and you will have associations from the North, the East, and the West willing to link with you, if you exhibit strong resolve.”

“Aiji-ma, we have had the strongest representations of the danger. We understand our position, and we will appreciate any Guild protection that arrives.”

“It is on its way, nandi,” Nawari said. “And should, in fact, have arrived at about this hour.”

The Guild could move in minutes, Cajeiri knew that. The legislature might take months to make up its mind, but the Guild was faster.

A lot faster. Things were definitely going on. Not just there, but coming up from Separti, from the port there. And maybe from the train station—or the airport. It was scary.

And what about nand’ Bren? he desperately wanted to ask, having run out of patience. Is Guild going to go to Tanaja and help him, too?

Then Nawari said something else, quietly, that totally changed the direction of the talk. “Aiji-ma, word from Cenedi. The Edi are coming up the hill. They are armed and in some great disturbance.”

 

Tano went into the hall and came back again more than once, and there was again recourse to the written paper and the fireplace. Tano wrote:

Bren wrote:
Regarding Lord Geigi, as before stated, Lord Geigi is anxious to return to space and, in agreement with Tabini-aiji, seeks to disentangle himself from terrestrial responsibilities. This move at Targai, while news, is consistent with that aim. Regarding Guild intentions and the sixteen who have surrendered, we have no knowledge of that matter.

The first note went the rounds of everyone in the room and then went into the fire.

Tano went out into the hall again, this time with Algini, taking the second note.

And stayed gone a lengthy time.

 

It was not just the young men of the Edi who came up the hill, and they were not walking. They had come in the village truck, bristling with weapons. Cenedi reported it, and in that truck, the Grandmother of Najida had opted to come up the hill in person, intending to discuss serious business with mani and with Lord Geigi. Now.

Cajeiri wanted to go out to see, but if he went out of mani’s sitting room, he might not get back in, and he knew nobody would let him outside.

So Cenedi went back out into the hall, and Cajeiri sat very quietly and waited. And jumped when there were several gunshots outside. Lord Geigi shifted in his seat as if he might get up.

Nawari headed for the door. But mani stamped her cane on the floor and said, sharply, “Do not let this escalate, Wari-ji! I shall see the Grandmother of the Edi!”

“Aiji-ma,” Nawari protested. “These are not Guild. They have no discipline. One advises—”

Another stamp of the cane. “We shall see them.”

Nawari was not happy about that. Cajeiri was not happy either and thought that where he was sitting was not safe if trouble broke out. He picked out a stout wooden table with drop leaves and thought that was maybe protection he could get to if he had to scramble for it. But if mani was going to meet with armed people, then he was certainly going to be here and help if he could. He had his slingshot. He had three good stones in his pocket, well, metal nuts he had gotten down in the basement hardware storage, and they were good. If anybody threatened mani, somebody else was going to get hurt.

Veijico, who had a gun, was still outside, on the duty he had set her. There was just Antaro and Jegari with him, besides two of mani’s young men and two of Lord Geigi’s bodyguard. “The table over there, nadiin-ji,” Cajeiri said to his own bodyguard in a very low voice, “if there is shooting.”

“Yes,” Antaro said.

So they had their plan. And Nawari had gone out. The shouting had come into the hall, indecorous behavior in nand’ Bren’s house, and very rude of outsiders. He heard Nawari shout at someone to be quiet, and that was just unheard of.

There was a moment of quiet, then, and Nawari opened the door to admit the Grandmother of the Edi, who came grim-faced and bundled in her colored shawls. She was almost as wide as tall and walked wide-legged, arms folded, a scary old woman when she was mad. And she looked mad. Her escort came in, two of them, carrying hunting rifles, wild-haired from the ride in the open truck and dressed in hunter’s jackets. The whole lot of them looked scary.

Well, so could Great-grandmother if she wanted to. But mani just leaned both hands on her cane in front of her, smiled, and nodded politely to the Grandmother of the Edi.

Servants came from their station at the back wall and brought a stout chair for the Grandmother, and she settled in, still with her scowl. What with her size and her fringed, flowered shawls and thick skirts, she fairly well filled the chair in one angry lump, with her two armed young men standing beside her.

Cenedi came in. And if things blew up, those young men had better think twice, facing mani’s and Lord Geigi’s Guild bodyguards at once. Even with rifles, those two had no chance, and neither did the Grandmother. Trust Cenedi to cover mani and Geigi’s bodyguard to protect him—and if he had to dive for safety, there would be about six shots, none of them from the Grandmother’s men.