Inheritor (45 page)

"We go down to the sea in the morning."

"Nadi, remember manners. Don't bring up the matter at supper. The dowager gives. She won't have things demanded of her or she'll say no. Face."

Jase was disturbed. But he mended his manners, made his face void of thoughts, and bowed slightly. "Nadi. I shall remember. North. Northwest. South. Southeast. Is there a northeast, nadi?"

"There." He pointed. "Taiben is in the northeast. Southwest is Onondisi Bay. This water is Nain Bay."

"I know. It was on the map."

Nain Bay was on the map. The sun wasn't. And Shejidan was tepid.

One hoped, Bren said to himself, that this whole adventure would express itself only in Jase's striking vocabulary. He hoped the night to come would be quiet, that the vans had been the caterers', that Tano and Algini had stayed to manage the details of a welcome-home banquet — all possible — and that none of the things added up the way they might.

"Also," he said, trying to think of everything with a man for the first time loose among the hazards of the outdoors, "nadi, be very careful of the cliff edge. Weather weakens the edge, do you understand? The earth could crumble and you could fall a long way if the edge is weak."

"Then how do we get down?" Jase asked.

"Carefully," Bren said. "And on a road if one exists. That's what one does with roads."

The packs began to come off the mechieti. Canvas bundles came down.

And sprang up rapidly as tents — spring-framed, modern tents, arising with blinding quickness.

For a woman who favored the ancient, Ilisidi certainly didn't disdain the latest in camping gear. He
knew
those atevi-scale tents. Northstar, the same brand of Mospheiran-made tenting that had served Mospheiran campers for generations, was a big export item to the mainland in atevi scale, a very, very popular export that helped Mospheira secure aluminum. The paidhi's mind was full of such helpful eclectic data.

But a tent like this modern thing of aluminum and nylon certainly wasn't what he expected the dowager to be using. And in hunting camouflage, not the house colors. They sprang up, arched, immediate, ground-sheeted, and pegged down with toothed lightweight pegs that went into soft ground like this like daggers into crusted bread.

"What are we going to do?" Jase asked, he thought somewhat obtusely, and he answered with a little impatience: "I suppose we're going to have supper, nadi-ji."

The packs gave up not only tents, but well-packed modern thermal storage, so there was no need of fire, and the mechieti, grazing, wandered off to join the mechiet'-aiji and to have Ilisidi's men take off their harnesses.

Jason sat himself down on a hummock of grass and was examining a stem of bristle-weed as if it were of significance — and of course it was a curiosity, to him. The boy from Dur, Rejiri, had appeared to settle on Jase as a person of great interest and minimal threat and, having nothing else to do, had settled down opposite Jase, the boy talking to him rapidfire in a way that looked to have Jase engaged but confused. There was no knowing what Jase said, but Jase looked embarrassed, and the boy laughed.

But, Bren said to himself, Jase could handle himself. The boy who'd nearly bashed a plane into him wasn't one to talk about taking offense at the paidhiin.

He could draw breath, at least, and allot concern about Jase to someone else as the sunset, beyond the picturesque spire of rock, drowned in a bank of leaden cloud.

He walked about at peace and off duty, stretching out muscle — doing nothing for bruises near the bone, but it did seem to prevent the worst stiffness. Banichi and Jago were talking with Cenedi; Ilisidi was talking to three of her young men who were about to set out the thermal containers. As a rough camp, it was a lot more grand than the night they'd spent dodging bombs in Maidingi's hills.

And there was still nothing ominous on the horizon behind them. One could hope, maybe.

They were up here, notably, with the establishment at Mogari-nai, which had not made Tabini happy. And if they were up here to rattle the foundations of Mogari-nai and the Messengers' Guild, that Guild was not a warlike crew. Their hostilities mostly expressed themselves in the paidhiin's fouled-up mail.

There was also the matter of the tower up by Wiigin, and the pilots and the communications regulations. That as well as the communications fallouts he was sure was on the agenda, if they were paying an official call on Mogari-nai, and he certainly didn't rule it out.

And if he got all that straightened out, he might possibly get another chance to make a phone call, this one with the weight of the aiji and the aiji-dowager behind him, to crack the phone system.

He wondered what had happened with his family now. No calls, he was reasonably sure, at least nothing that had gotten past Mogari-nai, through which the incoming calls from Mospheira were all routed. By the luck that dogged him in that department, there was a good chance any incoming call that Toby sent was hung up in politics. Ilisidi, if she was planning a housecleaning at Mogari-nai, couldn't head the agenda of the aiji of Shejidan with a query from the paidhi-aiji. It just wouldn't look right. But he might get that call through after other business was finished.

So he walked and he stretched his legs. He walked closer to the sea than he would have liked Jase to come, and he shouldn't have done it. Jase followed him, with the boy from Dur trotting along with him, pointing out the sights, telling them there was, approximately, Wiigin, in that haze across the bay, and there was Dur, one could just see the lights in the gathering gloom, and that was the fishing port, but his father's house at Dur-wajran,
that
was on the height of the island, which had been a fortress in the days of the first sailing ships, but the inhabitants of Saduri on the body of the mainland, with their deeply inland harbor, had attempted to take the trade, even if they'd had to dredge the bay, because of the deeper draft of modern ships.

It was all done with scarcely a breath. And Jase looked a little desperate.

"Supper," Jago came to say, "nadiin-ji."

They had set the tents in a semicircle, the back of each to the wind that escaped the knoll. The company settled down to a lightless supper as the dusk settled about them, and there was good hot food from the insulated containers.

There was also a wind getting up that, in Bren's estimation, was going to make two humans glad of their jackets and the insulated tents before morning. The synthetic canvas fluttered and rippled in the wind, and the clouds flew in rags above their heads, gray in an apricot sky.

The mechieti grazed in apparent contentment. Jago had stowed the computer, little good that it was besides mental comfort, and had put it in his tent. They passed out sandwiches and had tea from instant heat containers in insulated cups.

When the dowager
wanted
modernity, it attended her. Clearly so.

"So, Ja-son-paidhi," Ilisidi said. "How do you fare?"

"Well, nand' dowager, thank you." Jase was on his very best behavior, and bowed with courtly grace.

"And you, son of Dur-wajran?"

"I am well, nand' dowager. Very well."

"And
you
, nand' paidhi?"

"Curious, nand' dowager, about your purpose here."

"Ah." Dark was coming down on them. "Curious. I thought you might be. What do you
think
we're doing out here besides pasturing the mechieti and enjoying the sea air?"

"Annoying Mogari-nai."

He took a chance. He was relatively certain of that much.

And he amused the dowager, whose shoulders rose and fell as she leaned upon her silver-headed cane. "The earth station, they call it. This unsightly great bowl. An offense, I say."

"A shame they put it on such a lovely view. But how else could it also watch Mospheira?"

They sat crosslegged. On ground still cold and damp with spring. And ate fish sandwiches.

"Do you think so?" Ilisidi asked, and he had the feeling that it was no casual, habitual challenge, but a question very much to the point of the hour. "Let me tell you, nadiin, before the aijiin sat in Shejidan, before humans were a suspicion in the skies, before foolish atevi had made stupid smoking machines to run on rails across the country and frighten the creatures that lived there, and before that eyesore of an earth station existed or a petal sail had dropped down to annoy us, there was war in this place. Where we sit, there was death and bloodshed." Ilisidi held out her hand for a refill of her cup, and a young man ducked close and low to refill it. "Bones probably underlie this very hilltop. And do you know why, heir of Dur?"

"The island of Dur," the young voice said, "was held by the heresy of the Gan, and they used to send ships up and down the coast to collect gold and grain, and they killed anybody that opposed them. They held the whole coast and they raided on Mospheira. But aijiin from several townships began to follow the aiji of Wiigin, and they raided the island and set up — set up our line."

"Wiigin it was," the dowager mused. And pointed a dark forefinger. "Source of this traitorous tower, this hotbed of conspiracy."

"But now," the young man said, "nand' dowager, we follow the Barjidi."

"Since the War of the Landing. That
now
. Two hundred years of
now
."

"Since the War, nand' dowager." The boy had become very quiet, very wary, sensing that he was being stalked, Bren was sure, and asked himself to what end Ilisidi was proceeding.

"The petal sails came down on Mospheira," Ilisidi recalled, "the wandering machines tore up the land and the stones of the Gan, and for a time that was convenient for Barjida-aiji, that the last stronghold of the Gan should fall to such an unforeseen threat. The grandmother stones were downed not by fleshly hands, but by these reeking machines. Machines struck down the heresy."

"Yes," the boy said. "And all the atevi on Mospheira left and settled on this coast."

"Foolish politics," Ilisidi said. "The Gan lords attempted to deal with what they thought were men descended from the moon. And it killed them. Did it not, nand' paidhi?"

He did not want part of any quarrel, ancestral or otherwise. The atevi of the coast held just reasons for dislike of humans: many of them had moved off Mospheira to escape human contact, human ways; more had moved off when the War of the Landing had ravaged the island; the last had left when the Treaty of Mospheira had given the land to humans, the whole of a vast and once prosperous island.

"We did each other great harm, nand' dowager." A gust battered them.

"A good night to be under canvas," Ilisidi said. "And a strong wind rising. But what would you tell our guest from Dur, regarding humans? Should he fear them?"

Loaded question. Very.

"Yes, nand' dowager. At least one should remain prudent."

"Are all humans on the island reasonable people?"

"Some are, nand' dowager. Some are very well disposed to the peace. And I have discovered some are not."

It was an infelicity of two, unbalanced, positive and negative. It could not be allowed to stand. It was, in its way, a question. But by inviting the posing of two, the dowager had encouraged it.
This
was the difference between competency and fluency:
this
was the line he'd begun to cross in his off-the-cuff negotiations, the line across which humans who'd dared it had frequently blundered.
He
felt a kind of elation, aware of what he was doing as Wilson-paidhi never had figured it, aware the dowager was getting responses with which
she
could know she was understood.

And with a twist of her mouth, as at some sour taste, the dowager added,

"The Kadigidi
are fools
."

"I agree."

"It lastingly troubles me that I did not shoot that woman."

Direiso was a possibility. But he knew
that woman
had one meaning to Ilisidi. "Hanks-paidhi, aiji-ma?"

"Hanks." Definitely a sour taste. "Melon-headed, my ally, did I tell you?"

Jase had to wonder about his vocabulary.

"Lord Geigi?" Bren asked.

"One had an excellent chance to shoot Hanks-paidhi," Cenedi interposed. "And Geigi protected her."

"Melon-head," Ilisidi said.

"So what
did
happen, aiji-ma?" It was a point of his extreme curiosity. "One hears that there was breakage of small objects."

"Nothing of taste," Ilisidi said. "Oh, it was easy for Geigi to gain admittance to Direiso's estate. Direiso had offered Geigi money to pay off a certain"— a waggle of Ilisidi's fingers —"oil investment gone bad. Saigimi had the extreme impatience to call it due immediately. Saigimi's wife is, you may have heard, Geigi's cousin. And
she
held the financial note on the house at Dalaigi. She had no idea that Geigi dared come to me with the matter." By now a smile was tugging at Ilisidi's lips. "Silly mistake. And of course Direiso had involved herself with that detestable human woman who had embarrassed them all. Saigimi had taken her from the capital, so my sources say, and brought her to Direiso's estate somewhat against his will."

One
had
to be aware of the lord of Dur's son, who was sitting still as a stone. And themselves, Tabini's for certain, when Tabini himself had not been able to discover the things Ilisidi was saying.

Ilisidi held out her cup, and more tea arrived in it.

"Well, well, and having taken her from the capital before she spoke any more such foolishness and proposed death rays coming from the station," Ilisidi said, "he was of a notion to take her to his house in the Marid, from which she would only speak at his permission. Covering his embarrassment over the faster-than-light notion, as happened. When you were able to explain the paradox, it was clear that houses would topple, and
not
Geigi's. Meanwhile Direiso had gained Hanks as her guest. She called Geigi's cousin, Saigimi's wife, up to her house in the Padi Hills, and things were moving very rapidly. Murini, Direiso's heir, had gone to the Atageini —
his
nerve was weakening when it came to such an outrageous provocation of the aiji; but Tatiseigi locked him in a storeroom and refused to deal with him. Tatiseigi phoned
me
saying he had apprehended vermin in his cellar, meaning that he had some prisoner, of course, and was notifying me, and
that
was when that fool Saigimi shot up the lilies."