Ilisidi popped the quirt right across Jeichido’s nose. Jeichido shied off, haunches dropped, which could propel the mecheiti into fight or flight. Cajeiri reined hard and used his own quirt to take her away from Ilisidi.
The boy had stayed on and stopped her. Thank God. Cajeiri had a high-powered mecheita under him, and while she wouldn’t break past the herd-leader, she seemed to have taken it in her head that she could move forward.
She wasn’t doing that while Ilisidi was riding the mecheita in front of her.
“One apologizes, mani!” Cajeiri called back, keeping Jeichido circling to distract her.
“Best we turn back to the stables,” Ilisidi called out. “They will be unsettled, now, and we have our young guests to consider. We have had exercise enough.”
Tatiseigi gave the order, and the grooms reined back on a wide U, not retracing their path, but headed in the direction of the house. There was a little excess energy in the herd since the flare-up, the leader still protesting with shakes and turns of his head. It needed steady effort from the foremost riders to keep the pace slow and the direction unchallenged.
“Just as well we go back,” Bren said, watching as Cajeiri reined Jeichido all the way around to go back to his guests—who had had, surely, a momentary fright.
“Indeed,” Jago said, but her voice was uncharacteristically distracted, and when he glanced at her, he caught her, just for a moment, staring off toward Banichi.
“Was it Taibeni, Jago-ji?” Bren asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Of that we are certain. But Cenedi has ordered us back.”
Caution? Bren asked himself. Communications were at a minimum. They were not sending details abroad. But the space within the hedges suddenly seemed less safe than a moment ago.
• • •
“Are you all right?” was the first thing Gene asked as Cajeiri rode close and came about. “Is your great-grandmother all right, nandi?”
“Oh, mani is very well!” Cajeiri was a little embarrassed to have lost control of Jeichido so that mani had had to step in, but Jeichido did not know him, and was testing whether she could get her way. He was not as good as Antaro or Jegari, even, and far from as good as mani or Great-uncle. He hoped his guests had not thought him a fool.
“What was it?” Artur asked. “What was it, nandi, on the ground?”
“A smell. One of the Taibeni, the riders from beside the bus. One had been out here in the pastures, and possibly Uncle’s mecheiti have been smelling them for days, even from as far away as they are. The herd-leader caught the scent and he was ready to lead the herd over to that camp and show them this is his pasture.”
“Would they fight, nandi?”
“The Taibeni mecheiti would probably tend to run, unless their riders turned them around. But only enemies would do that. We are quite safe. Uncle’s staff told the camp we were going to be out riding this morning, and they were not supposed to be out on patrol. But evidently somebody was out early, after the rain. Are you all right, nadiin-ji?”
“It was scary,” Artur said.
“They managed very well,” Jegari said, who had been with them. “They held on and made no bad moves.”
“She is a very nice mecheita,” Irene said, patting the mecheita so slightly it probably never felt it. “All the others were upset, and she just stood there.”
Irene’s was a very old mecheita, with white hairs around her nose, but Irene was happy with her.
And no one had fallen off when the herd stopped.
“Excellent,” he said. Jeichido was starting to shift about under him, wanting to move. “We are on our way back. It will be long enough riding, by the time we get there. I shall see you at the house.” Jeichido swung about on her own, took a step, and he put her one full circle in the opposite direction to have it clear he was in charge. Then he took her quietly back up the line, restraining her urge to run—if she did, it would start everybody trying to run, considering they were heading toward the stables now. He had no desire to end a very good day by having Irene or Artur take a fall.
And he hoped he looked very impressive and recovered a little good opinion after the situation with mani. It might be more impressive to his guests to let Jeichido take out running. But it was, at the moment, mani and Great-uncle he wanted to impress. He rode Jeichido at a steady pace all the way to her place near the head of the column, put her exactly where he wanted her to be, and dared take a glance at mani, who just nodded, approving.
So did Great-uncle.
That was almost as good as a fast race home. He had redeemed himself. And he kept that same traveling-pace, with his bodyguards behind him and Great-uncle beside him, all the way to the house.
They crossed the drive, went down the walk beside the house. The younger grooms had the gate open, and the senior grooms rode through the gate in single file, the head groom first, on the herd-leader, and one after the other.
It was a challenge. He was determined to get Jeichido inside, exactly in her proper order, and with no breaking and rushing, and he kept his weight even and his feet still, except just a little tap, which he had begun to understand was enough with Jeichido.
Then they had to stand and keep their mecheiti from milling about, while Cenedi and Nawari slid down and helped mani get down—mani made her mecheiti drop a shoulder, and got down much more ably than he expected she could after that ride. One of the junior grooms handed her her cane as Great-uncle’s senior bodyguard assisted him.
He himself, not confident he could get Jeichido to drop her shoulder, had gotten up the Taibeni way, with a jump, but that was probably not the best way to start with one of Great-uncle’s stable, and it might have given Jeichido ideas she could get her way. He tapped her shoulder with the quirt, now, repeatedly, and after a little hesitation, she extended her leg, letting him swing down.
He wanted to take her into the stable himself, and work with her. But he had his guests to see to. He handed the reins to a junior groom, and thought if he could manage it he would come out to the stables later, and maybe have a little time with her.
But getting the mecheiti unburdened and into the stable had to go fairly quickly, for safety, and it was, each mecheita handed off in order, and the herd-leader led into the stable to be quieted with a little reward of grain. The leaders were all clear, following him of their own accord. All around him riders were getting down, and he went to be sure his guests knew to get clear and get out.
Nand’ Bren and Banichi and Jago were with them, he saw, helping them get down; and mani and Great-uncle were safe, over by the small gate people used leaving the stableyard. He just ducked through the rails, and waited for his guests beside the gate.
Within the pens, only the grooms were moving about now. Mecheiti, still under saddle, were mostly interested in the grain waiting for them, all threat forgotten.
“Well managed,” Uncle Tatiseigi said. “Well-managed, Nephew.” Great-uncle and mani went on to talk to Jase-aiji and nand’ Bren.
And his guests came out, last, windblown, happy and a little out of breath.
“That was good,” Gene said in Ragi.
“Was it, nadiin-ji?” he asked. He hoped it was. “Rene-ji?”
“It was—” She lapsed into ship-speak. “I did it! I did it and I didn’t fall off, did I?”
“Told you,” Gene said.
“I want to do it again,” Irene said.
“I’m sore,” Artur said. “But it was good. It’s so weird. You really wonder what they’re thinking.”
“Your great-grandmother can really ride,” Gene said. “That was something! Were they going to fight?”
“Jeichido was going to move up past her,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “They try that. But mani is faster. And smarter.”
“Wow,” Artur said. “Jegari said they can run. I wish they ran.”
Cajeiri
had to laugh. “Oh, they can run, Arti-ji. They can run. We were all working to keep them just walking.” They had begun, after the others, to walk back to the house. “Hot baths, now. Or we shall all hurt tomorrow.” Antaro and Jegari were with him, and Lucasi and Veijico had stopped to wait for them, at the entry to the house.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said somberly, and nodded to the side of the door. Cajeiri stepped aside. So did his guests. And by Lucasi’s expression, whatever it was, was not good.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said, “your grandfather has just been assassinated.”
“Who?” he asked. Then: “Did my father do it?” He hoped not. He hoped his parents were managing to make peace while he was out of the way and not causing any trouble.
But if his father had just killed his mother’s father—
“Rumor has not had time to reach us,” Lucasi said. “We got this as we tapped into house base. One is not certain if Cenedi himself knows, yet. Jegari and Antaro are trying to learn details.”
Mani could have arranged it, Cajeiri thought, and Cenedi would certainly know.
Nand’ Bren had passed them, on his way into the house. Several of mani’s young men had lingered outside, watching them, Cajeiri thought, or maybe also getting the news.
He did not want to be looked at. He gathered up his guests and his aishid and brought them inside, then back into the nook under the adjacent stairs, trying to figure out what happened next in the world, and how to deal with his guests.
“Is something wrong?” Gene asked, and in Ragi: “What is it, nandi?”
“My grandfather is dead.” He did not want to alarm them. But they were going to find out. “Assassinated. Just now.”
They looked shocked. He was shocked, too, he decided. He was not exactly sorry, because his grandfather had threatened him, and his father, and scared him so he never wanted to see him again. But he was shocked, shaken, for some reason he could not quite understand.
“That’s terrible,” Artur said faintly. “We’re sorry.”
“One regrets,” Gene said in Ragi.
“What can we do?” Irene asked.
“Nothing. Nothing, nadiin-ji. He was—” He had no words for his grandfather, even in Ragi, and the more complicated things were words his guests had not learned. “He was dangerous. Bad toward me. Toward my great-grandmother. Toward my father.”
His guests looked confused, a little upset, not knowing what to do or say. And he only wanted to get them into a safe place and have his staff find out things.
“We are safe here,” he said. “No trouble.” He led the way back to the steps, and hurried up two flights of stairs with all of them behind him.
He thought then, at the very top step: Did Mother do it?
• • •
“Who did it?” Bren asked of his aishid, inside the lower hallway. He had intended, when they had first gotten the word, to follow Jase upstairs to his room and see what his aishid and Jase himself could learn. But the dowager had said, shortly, with no reference to courtesy: “Nand’ paidhi,” and headed down the lower hall with Tatiseigi, Cenedi, and their bodyguards.
Singular, that brusque invitation had been—meaning it was a conference needing him, not Jase—needing his connection to the world and his particular need-to-know. Ilisidi was, with what skill he had at reading Ilisidi, caught by surprise.
He followed with his own bodyguard, a traveling briefing, at a pace that gave them a little time, before he should be swept up and told things as Ilisidi saw them to be.
Hence the: “Who did it?”—because one real possibility was Ilisidi; but by her sudden dark shift in mood he didn’t think she’d ordered it, or expected it.
“There are a range of possibilities,” Banichi said. “None certain.”
“Information is slower to come than we would like,” Algini said. “We have notified the camps. Security is on high alert—but there is no apparent threat to Atageini territory.”
The news was minutes old—had arrived on exterior Guild communications as they were riding into the stables. “When did it happen?” he asked.
“The event,” Algini answered, “within the last half hour. Details are lacking as yet, but his bodyguard has reported—they survived. The report came from Guild Headquarters. We relayed it to the aiji, so he is aware, in case the Guild has excluded his bodyguard.”
The damned restriction. The apparently petty rules question that now placed the aiji’s security in the dark, while there was an assassination that had reconfigured the political landscape.
Jago said: “We just now asked Jase-aiji to notify Lord Geigi and signal we are not threatened here, Bren-ji, but to be aware.”
“Has the young gentleman been informed?”
“His aishid, Lord Tatiseigi’s, and yours all had the first notice from the house. He has gone upstairs with his aishid and with his guests.”
Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.
It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji—but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.
He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble—but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and that meant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.
Ilisidi hadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.
“Recommendations, nadiin-ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.
“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.
There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.
Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger—or weaker—leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.
Damiri?
If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.
They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.
There was a chair ready for him, point of a triangle with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. He sank onto it. There was no preamble, no formality of a tea service. It had gone straight into a business discussion.
“My great-grandson has been informed,” Ilisidi said. “I shall call him into private conference and we shall talk. Lest you ask, we had nothing to do with this, paidhi. Nor did our host. About my grandson, or any other, we have no information.”
“We do not believe it is in any sense your grandson’s action, aiji-ma,” Cenedi said. “We are less sure about Damiri-daja, but we do not think it likely. We believe it is within Ajuri clan. That it should have happened, we find somewhat surprising, aiji-ma, but not greatly so—if it resulted from Komaji’s actions in the capital. Many in the clan have not been satisfied with Lord Kom
aji’s leadership. His foray southward could have lost him man’chi. In that case, a new leadership will have to establish its policies and choose its enemies. We do not even know that it was a Guild assassination, or if so, if there was a Filing.”
“This is an uncommon lack of information,” Tatiseigi said, and Bren took in a slow breath and kept his mouth shut on the things he knew, which, at least to his knowledge, Tatiseigi did not know—close links between the Kadagidi and Ajuri. The significance of Haikuti being assigned to the Kadagidi.
That hypothetical administrator sitting inside the Guild, arranging his chess pieces about the board . . . would not want Damiri sitting in Komaji’s place, asking questions about Ajuri’s actions and Ajuri’s shaky finances . . . and least of all would he want her asking into Ajuri’s staffing.
“The outlook for our situation here, Nedi-ji?”
A nod. “Improved, in the near term, aiji-ma. We cannot answer for the choice the clan itself may make. We are still uncertain whether Lord Komaji had any idea that Tatiseigi is here, or that you and the young gentleman and his guests are not, as generally advertised, in Malguri. Popular speculation on the assassination is more likely to center on your grandson and the consort—and a belief that the aiji has acted without Filing may raise some debate and a demand for a Guild investigation, which would come to nothing. More worrisome, the aiji’s other enemies, known and unknown, may take alarm and reassess their security, fearing the aiji might have thrown aside Guild rules altogether and decided to act against them. The aiji’s choice of bodyguards is an ongoing issue with his detractors. His most dangerous enemies care less about the principle of Guild rules than about the aiji’s increasing ability to deny them information—and we have cut them off, we believe. In the last few days we have silenced every trickle of real information and substituted certain things that we have loosed like dye into a water source—to find out where it resurfaces. We have already seen results from that. But then—Komaji is killed, amid this silence we have created. The ones who killed Komaji know who killed Komaji, but certain of our enemies do not know, and the warier among them may no longer trust what information they do get.”