“Where assigned?”
“We served in Amarja, nadi,” Momichi said. “In the citadel.”
“In whose man’chi?” Algini asked.
“In the aiji’s,” came the curt answer. “But not this aiji.”
This lord of Dojisigi clan, and aiji of a quarter of the Marid at the moment, was a fifteen-year-old spoiled brat of a girl, who had once expected to marry Tatiseigi’s nephew. She was twice lucky—first that the nephew had been packed off to the East, and second, that she was alive, and thus far getting her own way, where it regarded personal comforts and the illusion that she was in charge of the district.
But was young Tiajo likely to remain in office another year? Bets inside and outside the Marid ran counter to that. She was lord only because she was next in line, though under house arrest. She might have been a convenient rallying-point for the remnant of the Shadow Guild, but evidently even they had found her more liability than asset.
“Does your partner have a voice?” Banichi asked.
“Nadi,” Homuri said. “Yes.”
“Why were you in your village?”
“We were dismissed from the citadel,” Homuri said, “when the Shejidani Guild took over. We were told, all of us, to go separately back to our home districts, our own villages, and maintain order. We went to Reijisan. We both came from there. Our partners went another direction. To Meitja.”
“And with your skills, you could not protect this village?”
“Nadi,” Homuri said, “we could not. They took our weapons.”
“Who took them?”
“The Shejidani Guild. They confiscated all our weapons, all our equipment. When they sent us out, we went afoot, with nothing, nadi, from the point the truck dropped us, a day’s walk from our village. We had no communications, no weapons, no equipment, not even a canteen or a folding knife.”
“In the night,” Momichi said, “when the rebels drove this truck into the center of the village—we were called out. They said in the hearing of the whole village that it was full of explosives, and that if we did not come meet with them, they would set it off. So we did. They gave us their proposition, that we undertake an easy, limited mission, one man, and when they had news Lord Tatiseigi was dead—they would leave the village and we would never see them again.”
“Did you believe that?” Algini asked.
A hesitation. “No,” Momichi said. “But we still have to believe it.”
That, Bren thought, had the sound of a man who had actually made that decision.
“Where is your man’chi?” Bren asked them outright.
“To our village, now, nandi,” Momichi said.
“And to which Guild?” Algini asked shortly.
That brought silence, a careful consideration, and for the first time, Bren thought, they were going to hedge on the answer.
“Not to the rebels, nadi,” Momichi said.
There had to be an attachment, Bren thought. Man’chi had to go somewhere, it always was somewhere, or there were dire psychological consequences.
“Where?” Bren asked again, and drew their attention back. “If you want my help—start with the truth.”
“We are Amarja Guild. We are not these new people. We are not these people who take hostages and threaten villages. We are not the Shejidani Guild, dispersing us, confiscating our equipment, and leaving the countryside open to our enemies.”
“You followed the old rules,” Algini said.
“We are Guild, the same as you, nadi. This was a mission we were given—and we would do it honorably. We would observe the mission limits. Honorably. We have no personal grudge against Lord Tatiseigi, but if he died, it would throw everything in the north into chaos, and the Shejidani Guild holding Amarja might even be pulled back. We thought that might be their plan. But if that happened, we might come back, too: we had had our assignments, under the old lord—if the rebel northerners set Tiajo free, we might take up guard in the citadel again. But they lied to us about the mission. Or they had no idea what was going on up there. We found ourselves in deeper and deeper trouble, and a situation the meaning of which we did not know, except that it involved the aiji-dowager and the heir and humans—which could bring down the powers in the heavens into it all. So we decided to abort the mission and get out.”
“Where were you going?” Tano asked.
“As far as we could. Home, if we could get there. Out of that place, in the open air, if that was all we could get. We had no hope of reaching the aiji-dowager. We feared we were set up to bring war down on the Marid. The Taibeni ran us down. But when they said the paidhi-aiji was here—nandi, you spoke for the Marid. So we agreed to surrender, if we could talk to you. We ask—we ask you go to the aiji-dowager and tell her what is happening in the Marid.”
“Go on,” Bren said.
“We ask you, nandi, first report our deep apology to Lord Tatiseigi, and to the aiji-dowager, and tell her—tell her in the first place, we did not do this willingly, we know there was no Filing, and we are guilty of that. But, nandi, we need protection. The Shejidani Guild is in Amarja, safe and secure; but those of us out in the villages, nandi, we are down to hunting rifles we borrow from our neighbors, and if a truck full of explosives drives into a village center, even if we had our communications units—what chance the Shejidani Guild would come running on our word, and what chance the village could escape reprisals? This is doing her associations no good either. We ask you to ask the aiji-dowager to do something—to tell someone with associations in the Marid that the Dojisigi countryside is in trouble, and that we and our Guild are helpless to do anything.”
Silence followed that.
Bren looked at Algini, at Banichi, at Tano and Jago.
Claims. But no proof—except the presence of a very good Dojisigi unit and detail on a mission they had apparently aborted—with no collateral damage.
Finessed, as the traditional Guild said. An operation carried out within the law—give or take the critical matter of a Filing.
The dowager, intervene? The dowager’s action in the Marid had shifted over to diplomatic and legislative efforts, to advance Machigi, not the Dojisigi’s favorite Marid lord, to take power over the whole Marid. Tabini had agreed to that solution, not because anybody considered Machigi the perfect answer, but because the alternative was another round of assassinations and wars that would let the Shadow Guild rebuild in the south.
Precisely what was starting to happen in the Dojisigin Marid—with a Guild force sitting in the Dojisigin capital.
“Cenedi has just heard all this,” Banichi said quietly. One was far from surprised Cenedi had been listening in. “He wants to talk to them.”
“Nadiin,” Bren said to the two, aloud. “Get up. I shall present your case upstairs. You will be talking to the dowager’s Guild senior. One urges you be very forthcoming with him—including your situation in the Marid. He will hear you. He will inform the dowager. I make no promises. But I shall see she knows.”
“Nandi.” The Dojisigi got to their feet. They bowed, as deeply as Guild ever bowed, bowed courteously to his aishid, too, and Banichi directed the two into the keeping of Cenedi’s men.
Bren set his hand on the banister and started up the stairs. But he stopped on the bottom step, and asked, “Am I a fool, nadiin-ji?”
“They are a high-ranking unit,” Banichi said. “The Dojisigi lord was very deeply betrayed by the Shadow Guild; and killed by our forces. A conflicted man’chi? We have no way to know. The order to dismiss the local Guild from the citadel and confiscate equipment makes sense. But the occupying Guild has no force adequate to handle all that territory. We have to ask—does Dojisigi Guild already in outlying districts still have their equipment, or what happened to that? And if they ordered these units out of the capital—knowing the Shadow Guild was still operating out there—why did they not return th
eir equipment? A confused clerk? A misfiled order? Or did that clerk come through Assignments? But if that happened, and if the situation in Dojisigi is unraveling, there is nothing quiet we can do right now. We are going to question these two in greater depth. And advise the dowager. We can at least do that. What they may or may not know, Bren-ji—she has accesses as well as associations in the Marid. Whether she will use them—she will decide that.”
• • •
A signal had passed. Cenedi was just exiting the door of the sitting room where the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi waited, and Banichi and Algini left with him—not the usual partnering. Bren went inside with Jago and Tano, past two of the dowager’s young men and two of Tatiseigi’s at the doors.
The presence he hadn’t expected was Jase—who had arrived in the sitting room solo, and sat there, sipping tea and, atevi-fashion, not discussing the business at hand.
Bren walked in quietly, gave a little bow to the dowager, and to Tatiseigi.
“Well, nand’ paidhi?” the dowager asked, setting aside her teacup.
“Their names are Momichi and Homuri,” he said. “They are Dojisigi, of the village of Reijisan.”
“Dojisigi!” Tatiseigi said.
“They asked me, aiji-ma, nandiin, to speak for them, I promised, and I shall—but they are still being questioned downstairs, and everything is still in flux. They say they served the former aiji in Amarja, in the citadel. When the northern Guild took over—all the citadel guards were disarmed, then sent out to maintain order in their own villages and districts. This is their report.”
“Disarmed and then given duty,” Ilisidi said.
“That is their report, aiji-ma. The order to go to their native villages split them from their partners. And one night the Shadow Guild drove a truck with an explosive device into the center of the village, threatening to kill everyone in the village if these two would not undertake a mission—against you, nand’ Tatiseigi. They had no orders regarding the aiji-dowager.”
“What is this world coming to?” Tatiseigi asked. “To destroy a village!”
“These two men say they undertook the mission, understanding it was limited. They went by the old train, from Senji to Kadagidi township, and from that house received specific plans to get into Tirnamardi, to take up position in the garage, and substitute for your drivers when you arrived home. They succeeded in reaching the garage, your staff being furloughed. Thus far everything was going smoothly. But then the Taibeni appeared, and Malguri Guild, setting up alarm systems—though they had no idea what was going on outside, only that more clans were involved than the Atageini, and they began to think things were not as they were told. When you suddenly appeared in the house with the aiji-dowager and the rest of us, they realized their entire plan had gone astray. They maintain they are traditional Guild, that they emphatically are not Shadow Guild. They apologize to you, nand’ dowager, and to you, nandi. They believe they were lied to, that the objective was to bring war down on the Marid, and they wanted only to abort the mission and get out. They tried and met an alarm. They tried again, this time with the notion of using the mecheiti, and that failed. They finally surrendered to the Taibeni, with no shot fired. They ask their capture be kept secret, for fear the Shadow Guild will carry out their threat. Second, that you, aiji-ma, use your resources, and your associations in the Marid, to stop the Shadow Guild. They ask you help their village.”
“The destruction of a village,” Ilisidi said, flexing her fingers on her cane, “and by such a means—would create fear, in a district where northerners are deeply distrusted. The Dojisigi are ruled by a fool, occupied by northern Guild, and then the local Guild was stripped of weapons before being sent to the countryside. Is that the story, nand’ paidhi?”
“One expects Cenedi-nadi will extract more information, aiji-ma, but yes. That is as I understand it.”
“Unfortunately we cannot phone the Guild in Amarja and ask them the truth of the situation. Stupidity in that guild does not survive training. This has the appearance of enemy action. Let us wait, then, and hear what Cenedi recommends to us. May we hope for your forbearance in this situation, Tati-ji, if they are proven to tell the truth?”
“Aiji-ma,” Tatiseigi said, and gave a nod. “At your asking, without question. One is absolutely appalled.”
“Well, well, we shall know nothing until Cenedi has a report for us, with more detail.” She flexed her shoulders. “We are tempted to go back to bed at this point, and let Cenedi sort this out.”
Of all decisions, one had hardly expected that one.
But the dowager was not dismissing the matter. She had the salient parts of the Dojisigi statement. What Cenedi, Banichi, and Algini together could sift out of close questions to those two was going to be names, knowledge, contacts, and the fine details that might prove or disprove the situation as they gave it. Cenedi had kept his finger on the situation in the south. The dowager had direct contacts down there through the Marid trade mission. Lord Machigi of the Taisigin Marid knew the northern Marid; and the dowager had direct links into the Guild units that protected Machigi. It was not impossible she had links into units in Dojisigi and Senji, and every other district of the Marid.
Sources. Indeed the dowager had them.
“We are well after midnight,” Tatiseigi said, “and with those two in hand, we have reason to expect the rest of the night to be quiet.”
“Brandy,” the dowager said decisively, and Tatiseigi asked for his servants.
• • •
“I advise,” Bren said to Jase privately, at Bren’s door, upstairs, and with Tano and Jago right by them, “that you and your staff go to bed and sleep hard. I’ll wake you if there’s reason. That’s a definite sleep hard.”
It was ship-speak. It meant—don’t depend on a long sleep. He hadn’t had a chance to explain the details. Jase hadn’t had time to tell him what he’d heard between the dowager and Cenedi or the dowager and Tatiseigi, in the sitting room.
But Cenedi had been tapped into the com flow, hearing everything they had heard from the Dojisigi downstairs. It was more than possible that Jase already knew a good deal of it, and knew why the urging to get to bed now.
“Just wake me if you need me,” Jase said, and headed for his suite.
Bren watched him open the door and go into his suite, then went into his own with Jago and Tano. Supani and Koharu were waiting inside, and he immediately began to shed the coat and the vest into his valets’ hands. “Is there any outcome?” he asked Jago and Tano.
“Not yet,” Jago said.
“We are operating mostly dark,” Tano added, “to give the impression we are continuing a search on the grounds. Patrols are still out.”
“Then I am going to get what sleep is convenient. Do as you need to, nadiin-ji.”
“Yes,” Jago said, which was all-inclusive. She was listening to something, watching that language of blips and beeps and flashes on the locator that told her where her partner was and whether things were going smoothly.
He took himself straight to bed. Tano, Jago, and his valets continued in the sitting room.
The dowager’s reaction hadn’t been disinterested. He knew that look, that half-lidded consideration of a matter. Banichi had said there was nothing they could do in the south without touching off the whole business in the north—but—God. He wished there were an alternative.
The Shadow Guild plot against a leading conservative was useful—when the dust settled and they had to prove the case to any doubters.
That the Kadagidi had provided local transport, aid, and comfort to the Dojisigi—and likely detailed house plans and even the deterrent powder and the specific route to take into Tirnamardi—right down to that concealed access—that was something. The Kadagidi had gotten caught before, but they were slippery, always able to claim some provocation.
Actions against Tirnamardi out
of the blue, however, when there had been no active exchange of hostilities since Tabini retook the capital, and while the Kadagidi were already under a ban that barred them from court and any legal access to the Guilds’ functions—that was going to be hard to deny. The Transportation Guild was forbidden to convey them. The Messengers’ Guild could not allow them phone service: they were allowed only messages to and from Tabini’s office. The Treasurers’ Guild had frozen their assets, only allowing routine expenses.
Yet they had been the receiving end for two Assassins dispatched by a Shadow Guild operation out of a Dojisigi village, to Senji and then, via the old freight line to, likely, a waiting car in the Kadagidi township—
How would a residence and a lord under a Messengers’ Guild ban even get a phone call from two Dojisigi bent on mayhem over in Atageini territory?
Damned certain Lord Tatiseigi should go to great lengths to preserve these two men’s account. They had never gotten the Kadagidi so dead to rights . . . with no Filing and, this time, Guild who had been coerced, and a Shadow Guild communications network operating between the Kadagidi and their old associates in the Marid.
Banichi had said it—there was nothing they could do from here that did not risk breaking the entire problem wide open, north and south.
But it could be coming. They were all in position, like that move in chess, lord-to-fortress.
He stuffed his pillow under his head and deliberately thought not about the Dojisigi village or the Kadagidi over the hill, but about the Najida estate repair budget, complicated enough and dull enough to blunt any imagination.
That worked . . .
• • •
. . . too well. He came awake with the feeling he had slept much too long, and that someone had either come in or gone out. He rolled out of bed, located his robe and the light switch, and went out into the suite’s little sitting room to find it still dark outside the window. Banichi and Jago were sharing tea and a plate of sweet rolls.
“What time is it, nadiin-ji?” he asked in some chagrin.