“Understood,” Jase said. “If you need me—”
“I’m all right,” he said. “Finish your breakfast.”
There might be another breakfast. Or lunch. He had no clear idea what time it was. He had to dress, get the damage to his scalp covered in a suitable queue, and look civilized, at least.
His valets met him in the hall, went with him into the bedroom—they dressed him, got his boots on without his having to bend over, and arranged his hair very gently so, they assured him, the wound hardly showed. He went out to the foyer, gathered up Algini and Jago—in a timing Narani arranged without any fuss at all, and went out and down the hall—a little dizzy: he was not sure whether that was the headache or the headache cure; but he made it the short distance down the hall and through Tabini’s front door without wobbling.
He could hear the argument in the sitting room, something about Lord Aseida. It was the dowager’s voice, and Tabini’s, that was too quiet to hear. Cenedi was on duty, with Nawari, outside the sitting room door, and that was useful. Algini could have a word with them while he waited.
Jago, however, elected to come in with him.
He walked in, made the motions of a little bow, without putting his head too far out of vertical, and received the wave of Tabini’s hand that meant sit down. “Aijiin-ma,” he said inclusively, and carefully settled.
His late arrival meant a round of tea and, gratefully, a cessation of the argument for a moment.
“You have had a physician’s attendance, surely, paidhi,” Tabini said.
“This morning, aiji-ma. Thank you. And one thanks the aiji-dowager. Banichi and I are doing very well this morning.”
“Your color is shocking,” Ilisidi said.
“I would not risk the best tea service, aiji-ma,” he said, and murmured, to the servant, “more sweet, nadi, if you will. Twice that.” Ordinarily he preferred mildly sweet, but this morning he had an uncommon yen for the fruity taste. And salty eggs. Electrolytes, his conscious brain said. “And do stay near me, nadi. Please take the cup from my hand immediately if I seem to drift.”
“You should not have come,” Tabini said. “You might have declined, paidhi-ji.”
“I could not keep this all morning,” he said, regarding the ring on his hand. He drew down a sip of tea, which did taste good, and faced the quandary of courtesy versus prudence—tea delayed the necessity to get up and return Tabini’s ring . . . he thought so, at least. He was just a little muddled about priorities. And about too many other things. And thoroughly light-headed, and not thinking well, since the exertion of coming here. “In just a moment, aiji-ma.”
“Fool paidhi.” Tabini set down his cup, got up, and came to him and held out his hand.
“Aiji-ma.” Bren had set down his cup, eased the ring off and dropped it into Tabini’s warm hand, which closed, momentarily on his.
“Cold,” Tabini said.
“The tea helps, aiji-ma.”
“Fool,” Tabini said, crossing the little space to sit down again. “Fool. You shielded your own bodyguard last night. I have every suspicion of it.”
“I truthfully cannot remember what I did, aiji-ma. We just sat against the wall, and there was a great deal of racket.”
“Ha,” Ilisidi said. “Racket, one can well imagine. We have had a lifelong curiosity to see the inside of that place. You have cheated us of the sight.”
“I did not get beyond the Council chamber, aiji-ma. And this morning I am losing little details of what I did see there. Which likely will suit the Guild well. But one does understand we came out with everyone alive. Is that true?”
“True,” Tabini said. “One is glad to say, it is true.” Tabini set his cup down, and now conversation could shift. “We have the old Guildmaster back, we hear. The dead have risen up, the missing have returned, the retired have rescinded their retirement, and a handful of high officials installed this last year have proven difficult to find. We hoped that the Council meeting would have had all of them on the premises, but we missed five individuals, we understand. The restored leadership is interviewing members, starting with assignments to the Bujavid, ascertaining man’chi, kinship, past service, asking for references, and any other testimony that may apply. Meanwhile we have a matter arising which will regard the paidhi-aiji, and if you are able to hear it, paidhi, it would be good to set your staff on it this morning.”
“One waits to hear, aiji-ma,” he murmured—hoping it was a small problem.
“The matter of Lord Aseida,” Tabini said, “is a storm blowing up quite rapidly, if predictably. The lords are all uneasy in what happened, and we are particularly concerned that the action may set your good name in question.”
“That fool Topari,” Ilisidi said, “is the one pushing this.”
“Topari is irrelevant,” Tabini said. “Of Tatiseigi’s enemies, he is the very least.”
“The man thinks in conspiracies,” Ilisidi said. “He will argue against the television image if we provide it. He understands such things can be edited. I have it on good authority, he will be the problem. The others will let this fool put his head up and see what the answer is. He is exceedingly upset—the arrest of a lord is his issue—so he claims.”
Topari. A lord of the Cismontane Association, south of the capital—a rural district even more conservative than the Padi Valley Association. It was a Ragi population, in the watershed this side of the Senjin Marid, and running up into the highlands.
That district, one readily recalled, detested humans on principle, did not support the space program, and Topari was part of that little knot of minor lords that, geographically speaking, sat between the Marid and the aishidi’tat. Regarding his relations with Tabini—Topari had not been signatory to Murini’s coup—but likely only because that region rarely joined anything.
The brain was working. The head still hurt, but he felt the little adrenaline surge.
“You can do nothing with him, paidhi,” Tabini said. “And we still say he will not be the principal problem.”
“Leverage,” Ilisidi said, “is his entire motive. Aseida could catch fire and he would care nothing for the man. But Topari sees a way to make a problem to our disadvantage and cause a problem.”
A problem aimed at the aiji-dowager, Bren thought. And asked: “What, aijiin-ma, is his position?”
Right question. Tabini looked very annoyed, and Ilisidi had a quick answer.
“He is currently in a lather over our agreement with the Taisigin Marid,” Ilisidi said. “That is the entire business.”
“I am not about to take issue at a Ragi lord for objecting to the removal of a Ragi lord,” Tabini said. “That is not the approach I can make to this situation, especially with my grandmother as one of the principals in this affair!”
“The paidhi asks the right question. What is his position? Nothing to do with Lord Aseida or lordly prerogatives. We are his real target. He objects to our trade agreement with the Taisigin Marid because he sees it as affecting the Senjin rail line which his grandfather built. He envisions the southern treaty as replacing his precious railroad—the only privately constructed rail still functioning in the aishidi’tat. Because of an imagined danger to his rail segment and his little slice of use-fees on shipments to Senji, he has made me his enemy—I believe tyrant was the precise wording when he discussed my character. And while a reasonable man might have retreated from his rhetoric of several decades past, he views the whole world as an absolute set of numbers. He views negotiation as a fault and a weakness. He calls me fickle, and changeable, but will apparently not believe I can back off from an inconvenient feud which never mattered greatly in the first place! That, Grandson of mine, is his entire concern with the fate of Lord Aseida, but I will wager you he will present a resolution calling for an investigation, and if he has his hand on it, it will be a resolution extravagant in its blame of us and Lord Tatis
eigi for attacking that Kadagidi whelp who was trying to kill us!”
“You are not worried about your reputation,” Tabini said.
“Of course not!”
“Well, his resolution will fail, when its own caucus fails to support it. And if the paidhi-aiji will simply supply Lord Tatiseigi with the record Jase-aiji has—you may have the satisfaction of publicly embarrassing Lord Topari.”
“And creating a firestorm around our rail extension!”
God. Railroad politics. Trains were not only vital to the southern mountains, they were the only transport in the southern mountains, besides local trucks on roads that would daunt a mecheita. It was all going to start all over again. One saw it coming, everybody south of Shejidan wanting advantage to their own clan in the routing of the rail extension.
And Topari was the man to start it all sliding.
“Perhaps,” Bren said quietly, “perhaps I can get ahead of the situation, before anyone proposes an investigation.”
“You are wounded, paidhi!”
From Tabini, it was downright touching. Bren lifted a hand, a gesture to plead for a hearing of his point. “I recall the incident of the name-calling.” The old man had, in a legislative session some years ago, called Tatiseigi ineffectual and Ilisidi an Eastern tyrant. Tatiseigi had, in turn, called him greedy, which, within the Conservative Caucus, had seen charges flying about graft and the siting of rail stations. Tatiseigi had emerged from the squabble with perfectly clean hands, since he had fought to keep rail out of his district, not to bring it in. “As I recall, his quarrel with Lord Tatiseigi also dates from the railroad dispute.”
“Absolutely,” Ilisidi said. “Absolutely that is behind his stirring this up.”
“He is not the only one stirring this up,” Tabini said.
“He is the one poised to be a cursed inconvenience,” Ilisidi shot back.
“Tatiseigi can deal with him,” Tabini said, “as deftly as he did the last time.”
“Or I can deal with him,” Bren said, and in the breath he had, with the room somewhat swimming in his vision: “Lord Tatiseigi has human guests at the moment. And Lord Tatiseigi’s complaint is our justification against the Kadagidi, so he cannot take an impartial stance. I have actually exchanged civil words with Lord Topari in the past, unlikely as it may seem.”
“Negotiation with the man?” Tabini asked. “It may only make him a worse problem. He is not accepting of humans.”
“But I sit on the Transportation Committee,” Bren said quietly. “I have not been active on it since our return—but in fact, I will have influence in the plan for the south, and I am the negotiator with the Taisigin Marid, all of which will directly affect his district. My intentions may greatly worry him.”
“The bill on which you and my grandmother have staked an enormous risk—is still not voted on. The whole linked chain of the tribal peoples, Machigi’s agreement, the whole southwest coast, gods less fortunate! is postponed, and may be postponed further, awaiting a resolution of this mess of the succession in two clans. If you make Lord Topari in any wise part of the Aseida stew, it may well spill into the west coast matter, and if those two become linked, every lord and village will take a personal invitation to argue their own modifications to the west coast compromise. We cannot rescue you from that situation, if it goes awry. If you do lend this mountain lord any importance on these grounds or start negotiating with him before the west coast matter is voted on and untouchable, the Aseida matter can blow up into a storm that will take the west coast and the southern agreement with it.”
“One absolutely concurs in your estimate, aiji-ma, and I take your warning. I shall not negotiate with him. But one can advise Lord Topari—privately, politely—with no audience at all—that he is about to step into political quicksand. The Cismontane poses a nuisance to the southern agreement if he becomes a problem, but I may be able to do him a favor.”
“By warning him off this.”
“Warning him, exactly, aiji-ma. If he will talk to me—if he is not a fool, and I have not had the impression that he is. He is a devout ’counter, yes, a traditionalist, yes. But if I warn him away from a political cliff edge, and he avoids a second embarrassing loss to Lord Tatiseigi, then he may even deign to talk to me on the railroad matter, when it comes at issue . . . so long as I am entirely discreet about the contact. He needs publicly to deplore human influence, true. But if I can prevent him taking Aseida’s part in this, and if he warns certain other people off the idea—that will help us. One does recall that he lacks a Guild bodyguard. Several of his neighbors are in the same situation. They will not be getting the information that other lords have already gotten, quietly, from the changed leadership in the Guild. So he is in a position to make a public fuss and then to be embarrassed again, very painfully. But I propose to inform him—in a kindly way. Am I reasoning sanely in this, aijiin-ma? I think so, but a headache hardly improves my reasoning.”
“Will he even speak to you?” Tabini asked. “You are in no condition to go to him. Nor should you!”
“My major domo is a remarkable and traditional gentleman. It would be the crassest rudeness to turn Narani away unheard. I can at least try such an approach and plead my injury to necessitate Lord Topari coming to me.”
A deep breath. A sigh. “Well, well, do your best, paidhi. If you fail, then he may have to have his falling-out with Tatiseigi in public, and it will be untidy, and it may spill over into other debates, but I shall leave it in your hands, if you believe you can work with him. I have two vacant lordships to deal with, neither easy to fill, and I shall not be asking Topari for his opinion.”
“Will you ask Damiri?” Ilisidi asked archly, lips pursed, and Tabini scowled in her direction.
“We are certain you will have advice.”
“Who is her recommendation?”
“I have not asked her. Nor shall until she offers an opinion. Gods less fortunate, woman! She has a father to mourn!”
“Ah. We had hardly expected mourning on that score. But she will not take the lordship. Nor will my great-grandson. Let us agree on that, at least.”
Tabini frowned. “To my certain recollection, I have that decision, alone, and I find no reason to forecast who it will be.” He placed his hands on his thighs, preparatory to rising. “And we have kept the paidhi-aiji, who is distressingly pale, overlong, and made him work much too hard. Paidhi, you and your aishid will pursue the matter you wish to attempt. Cenedi will pursue business of his own. I have a meeting this afternoon with the Assassins’ Guild, regarding . . . business. And the aiji-consort will meanwhile make plans for the Festivity . . . which we are now hopeful will come off without hindrance or extraordinary commotion. Paidhi-ji.”
“Aiji-ma?”
“Rest. Care for your own household. And do not be talked into visiting Topari on his terms. We forbid it.”
“One hears, aiji-ma.”
Tabini rose, and offered his hand to his grandmother. She used his help, and her cane, and Bren rose and bowed as Jago moved close by him, in case the paidhi-aiji should unceremoniously fall on his face. Cenedi was now attending the dowager. Everything was back where it ought to be.
And he—he had to talk to Jase and send Narani on an errand into the city.
Preferably after a ten minute rest, with his eyes shut.
He was aware of his heartbeat in the wound on the back of his skull and tried to decide whether it matched the pounding in his temples. He just wanted to go home, lie down, preferably not on his back, and then maybe have another slice of buttered toast, to settle his stomach.
But he had to launch a campaign before he had that luxury . . . and see if he could move a man who ruled mountains.
He was laying plans even as he walked home with Jago and Algini.
Tell Lord Topari, he would say to Narani, that the paidhi-aiji wishes to forewarn him of evidence i
n the case of Lord Aseida, and that the paidhi-aiji wishes to meet with him discreetly and in confidence, preferring the honor of his company for tea in his residence— if he will be so accommodating. Say to him that the paidhi-aiji has been injured and is unable to walk any distance, but that the paidhi has heard of his concern and will not rest until he has spoken to him personally.
If there was one thing he had noted in the old lord, it was a sense of eternally frustrated entitlement, a sense that his mountainous district, though Ragi and part of the central lands, received everything last and least. Tea with a human might not be high on the list of honors Lord Topari craved—but Narani, country-bred himself, though coastal, might cajole the man into understanding at least one reason the conference was not taking place in an office.
Lord Topari, like other minor lords, lodged in town during the legislative session. The Cismontane, like many other small associations, seasonally held rooms for their representatives in the tashrid and hasdrawad in a moderately-priced hotel a few rows back from the esplanade at the foot of the Bujavid—off among the restaurants and office supply shops. Narani would take the tram down the lofty steps as far as the esplanade, and walk—it would not be far enough to necessitate local transport.
For the paidhi-aiji and his bodyguards to make the trek—the route would have involved the train station and a conspicuous Guild-supplied bus. He didn’t think he had it in him. He knew he didn’t. And he would, he thought, think better of Lord Topari forever, if Lord Topari would just come up the hill to disagree with him.
• • •
• • •
Son of mine, the letter went, that Madam Saidin had brought into the guest quarters, be advised that the official celebration of your birthday will be on the day itself. Jase-aiji will come to your door to escort your guests to the paidhi-aiji’s apartment, and to escort you and your aishid to our apartment for a private breakfast, at the usual time. There will be a small luncheon, late, attended by family and by your personal guests. Appropriate wardrobe will be transferred by staff during breakfast. Kindly advise your young associates of that arrangement. The paidhi-aiji’s staff will assist your guests.