Inheritor (47 page)

"Ah, but not necessarily bad. Once
you
wished her to come to Dalaigi, which Tabini's actions against

Saigimi had made unwise — she was free to suggest Taiben. Which Tabini expected. But she wished you to go to Saduri, and now we know why: Deana Hanks is coming to the mainland and the aiji-dowager already knew it."

"To the
mainland
!"

"We don't know how. Boat or small plane. It could be anywhere on the coast."

"
Why
, nadi-ji?"

"One would ask the paidhi
that
question. But this information is since last night, Bren-ji. Tabini didn't know, and Ilisidi may yet know more than we do."

"To ally with Direiso. A second establishment — to challenge Tabini's government. That's what Deana's up to. God! But where's Ilisidi in this?"

"With the aiji. We hope."

He had recently realized there were new players in the game. Dangerous ones. He recalled the controversy with the pilots forming a Guild. The opposition of the Messengers. "And the Messengers' Guild? The Guilds in general?"

"The Guilds in general stand with the aiji. We expressed that fact in the Marid, when we carried out our commission. Meanwhile Hanks is coming to the mainland for reasons we don't know; but we do know that Direiso has not yet explained to her that she has much less support than previously.
Now
Hanks is an asset which Direiso
must
have to demonstrate to her wavering followers that she has the resources to deal with Mospheira; and we think that is exactly what she intends. Mospheira seems weak, lacking in resources — its ship will not fly in advance of ours. And could Direiso secure her own position by dealing with Mospheira, she would do so. That she dislikes humans would only make it sweeter to her."

"That Hanks' faction dislikes atevi wouldn't stop them, either. She's coming here to make a deal for resources Mospheira can't get without those rail lines and the northern shipping ports. Where Direiso is strong right now."

"It would accord well with our suspicions."

"
Dur
wouldn't support this — would it?"

"The boy? Completely innocent. And aware of far more than young ears should hear. His father wished to keep the island out of difficulty, I suspect. Or told the boy that wiser heads would settle it. Dur is not reckless. It's an island that used to live by smuggling and now wants tourism. They're far too small to matter in most accounts. But the boy — is a boy. He stole the plane, and with a map six years out of date, he flew out of Dur at night and followed the railroads to Shejidan, which brought him over the rail terminal. And right across your approach route."

Rain suddenly hit, rattling hard on the canvas.

On the edge of that downpour a shadow appeared in the doorway. Bren's heart jumped.

"Nadiin." Banichi squeezed into the dark, dripping wet. "Have you explained everything, Jago-ji? Made clear the universe?"

"Almost," Jago said. "And given him the gun. Which you will use, Bren-ji, at your discretion."

"I hope not to need it."

"Traceable only to me," Banichi said. "But such details matter very little in the scope of this situation."

"How did she get me to ask her to come here?" He still struggled with that thought. "Am I so transparent?"

"Immaterial that you asked
her
. One believes the aiji would have packed you up and sent you, all the same," Jago said. "She didn't
need
you to ask her. She came back to Shejidan to get you. The party was the excuse. She was feeling out Tabini, feeling out your position — and observing Jase."

He had a sinking feeling. "Tatiseigi. Where is
he
in this?"

"Ah," Banichi said. "Uncle Tatiseigi. Bets are being laid. Very high ones."

Thinking what he'd been meddling with, in that crazed business with the blown lightbulb, he felt cold all the way to the pit of his stomach.

"You still don't know where he is in this."

"Bren-ji," Jago said quietly, "Saigimi didn't know where
he
was. Even we make mistakes of man'chi. It is not always logical."

"And he can't find the television set," Banichi said somberly. "One hopes."

He laughed. He had to laugh.

"I shall sleep with Jase," Banichi said. "Just — be prudent, nadiin. Keep the noise low."

"Banichi," he began to say. But it was too late. Banichi was out the door into the rain, headed for his tent,
his
roommate, and leaving him nowhere else to be for the night.

He was in the dark. In utter silence. And there might be more briefing for Jago to do. "So what else is there to ask?" he inquired of her.

"I've said all I can, Bren-ji."

A silence ensued.

"We should rest," Jago said.

"Jago," he began, and had to clear his throat.

"One is not obliged, nadi-ji. Banichi has a vile sense of humor."

"Jago —" He reached for her hand in the dark, found what he thought was her knee, instead, and knew how he'd possibly rejected her and embarrassed her, last night, after what seemed a set-up. He didn't
know
, that was the eternal difficulty, even what signals he sent now, and he thought about her, he thought about her in his unguarded moments in ways that made this touch in the dark the most desirable and the most reprehensible thing he could do.

Her hand found his with far more accuracy, and rested atop his, warm and strong and its gentle movement occupying all the circuits he was trying to use to frame an objection of common sense.

"Jago," he began again, and Jago's hand slid across to
his
knee. "I'm really not sure this is a good idea."

And stopped.

To his vast distress. And disappointment. But he was able then to find her hand and hold it. "Jago," he said for the third time. "Jago-ji. I am concerned —" Her fingers curled about his thumb, completely throwing his logic off course. "Propriety," he managed to say. "Banichi. The dowager. I want you, but —"

"She is outside your man'chi. Not far. But outside. And it's safer, tonight, if you're here and Banichi is with Jase, if anything untoward should happen."

"What might happen?"

"Anything. Anything might happen. Whatever pleases you. I would be inclined to please both of us."

He could feel the warmth from her. The lightning showed him her shadow, close to him. "Then should we —" he began, in the glimmer of a self-protective thought.

"We should be careful of the guns," she said with what he was sure was humor, and her fingers searched the front of his jacket.

He felt a rush of warmth, shifted position and took hold of her to defend himself from her exploration in search of the firearm. "Is this a good idea?" he asked, reason sinking fast. "Jago-ji, if you do that, we may both scandalize the company."

"Not this company," she said, and somehow they were past each other's defenses and he was no longer thinking with complete clarity of purpose, just exploring a territory he'd not seen and didn't see, alone and not alone for the first time in his life. She was doing the same with him, finding sensitive spots, and presenting others he might have missed. Clothes went, on the somewhat bouncy and thin mattress —"We have to look presentable," was Jago's prudent warning, and with clothing laid carefully to the side, caution went. He moved his hand along smooth expanses in the darkness, to curves that began to make sense to his hands, as her hands were traveling lightly over him, searching for reactions, finding them.

God! Finding them. He brought his hands up in the shock of common sense that said danger, harm, pain — and at that moment Jago's mouth found his and began a kiss both explorative and incredibly sensual.

He had never known atevi did that. She
tasted
foreign; that was odd; but matters now reached a point of no-thought and no-sense. They were in the dark, neither knowing in the least what hurt and what didn't, but efforts to consummate what was underway began to be a rapid and frustrating comedy of errors that at first frustrated and embarrassed him and finally started her laughing.

Her good humor made him less desperate. "We have to practice this in daylight," he muttered. "This is exhausting."

It won a finger poke in the ribs, which she'd discovered got a protective reaction. He curled up — and at a thunder boom, jumped against her and held on. They were, he thought, both out of their minds, in a tent, halfway to the lightning-laced heavens, under a metal frame, and in earshot of Ilisidi's men. Then — then, maybe it was the plain admission he was being a fool, or maybe it was Jago's changing position — a sudden and by no means coordinated reaction sent him toward release. She shivered oddly and didn't complain; and his eyes shut and the dark went darker and red and black.

For a moment or two then he just drifted in space, half aware of the warm body wrapped around his, tasting the strange taste that was Jago, and feeling, well, that he'd managed enough. She seemed to have found something enjoyable out of it, and he was appalled at the thought she'd tell Banichi and make a funny story of their night.

Which it was, dammit. She was right to laugh. Thank God she could laugh. It made it all less serious, what he'd gotten into, and he tried to set it in perspective as they lay together with the lightning turning the walls transparent. She was curious; he'd answered her question. She'd surprised the hell out of him about the kiss — he felt warm even thinking about it — and he wondered whether she'd done a little research of her own or whether atevi just did that.

And she hadn't given up on the night. Bad trouble, he said to himself, as Jago's fingers wound curls in his hair, as she fitted her body against his just for comfort and seemed satisfied. In that moment his human feelings slid right over the edge of a cliff more dangerous than the one outside. She brought him no recriminations, found no fault — maybe had an agenda — but this was the woman he'd trust for anything, and whose good will he wouldn't risk for anything.

Evidently, by those fingers making curls out of his hair, he still had her good regard. He'd risked everything and hadn't lost, and there might be other nights, when he'd thought he'd reached a safe numbness to his personal affairs. Oh,
God
, it was dangerous.

"Was it pleasant?" she asked him.

He drew a breath. "I enjoyed it."

"It was not very responsible of us. But Banichi knew we would do it."

"
Did
he?" he asked, but he was sure of that, too.

"Of course. But we should get dressed, in case. There was no danger early on. But toward morning we should be a little on our guard, in case we must move."

"Direiso?"

"Possibly."

"What's going on?
Where
are we going and what are we up to?"

"Cenedi and the dowager know that for certain. But Mogari-nai, most likely. Which Direiso-daja will not like." She unwound herself upward and tugged on his hand.

Will not like? he asked himself. Getting to his feet, he agreed with. But she ducked out of the tent stark naked into driving rain and pulled him out with her. It was cold rain. They were standing in water. Lightning was still going on, the wind was still fierce and Jago, her black skin glistening in the lightning, sluiced over by the rain, and her braid streaming water, acted as if she were in the safe, warm showers at home.

He followed her example, unwilling to think himself more delicate than she was. He scrubbed and rubbed and was oh so glad she ducked back inside in a hurry. She flung his insulated sleeping bag at him for a towel, and they both cleaned up and dressed and snuggled down with one of the open bags beneath them and one zipped out flat above them, both shivering and holding on to each other.

"Better than a roof in the peninsula," she said, and hugged him close. "Get some sleep."

He tried. He didn't think he could, after the shock of cold water; but the shivering stopped, her warmth was comfortable, her embrace was trustable as anything on earth, and he found himself drifting.

Not love, he said to himself. And then thought, with one of those flashes of insight his professional mind sometimes had, maybe they'd had such rotten luck with the love and man'chi aspect of relations because that word in Mosphei' blurred so many things together it just wasn't safe to deal with.

They were lovers. But Ragi said they were sexual partners.

They were lovers. But Ragi said they were associated.

They were lovers. But Ragi said they were within the same lord's man'chi.

They'd made love. But Ragi said there were one-candle nights and two-candle nights and there were relationships that didn't count the candles at all.

They'd made love. But a Ragi proverb said one candle didn't promise breakfast.

He and Jago would be lucky to have a breakfast undisturbed by the trouble that might come tomorrow, but he'd know his back was protected, come what might, by her
and
Banichi. So if their languages didn't say quite the same thing and their bodies didn't quite match and the niches they made that said
this person satisfies enough requirements to make me happy
were just a little different-shaped in their psyches, the center of that design might match, leaving just the edges hanging off.

But didn't his relationship with Barb have unmatched edges? Didn't every close relationship?

He was quite out of his depth in trying to reckon that. But with Jago he certainly wouldn't count the candles. Whatever they could arrange, as long as it could last from both sides, that was what he'd take.

He was happy, right now, where he was. He didn't swear it would bear the light of the sun. He didn't let himself hope — the way things in his personal life that had looked as if they were going to work had tended not to — that it would stand the sun.

But he trusted that Jago would protect herself.

That thought let him relax, finally, listening to her breathing. In dim-brained curiosity he began timing his breaths to hers and seeing if they could be brought to match. He could force it — but it wasn't quite natural. She seemed asleep, so that might not be a fair test.