“Just before dawn,” Jago said. “Things are relatively quiet. The aiji-dowager is awake, and Lord Tatiseigi is waking.”
“The Dojisigi?” he asked.
“The Dojisigi have provided very interesting information, Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and added with a quirk of the brow: “The dowager sent units to look at Reijisan. They reported two hours ago.”
He had been about to propose he should go dress. “What did they find?”
“Two units we have wanted to find,” Banichi said, “one of which is no longer at issue. Our Dojisigi immediately named a name. Pajeini, Chief of the Shadow Guild in the Marid—personally involved in the threat to them, and, they suspect, similar dealings with the other half of this aishid. He is not yet in our hands, but the second-in-command is. The dowager dispatched units very close to Reijisan, found things as described, and they took out the senior unit with very little fuss.”
Bren sank into the third chair. “Is the village safe?”
“There were explosives. They are removed. We have not heard all the details,” Banichi said. “This is Cenedi’s network, prearranged signals to several teams in Dojisigi, prearranged responses, by a physical means Cenedi does not discuss even with us. Cenedi has directed the other half of that unit be located. We want to know where they are. Our pair tells us the freedom they were given on this mission was very worrisome to them, since they could have gotten off that train at any point, and they could have walked up to Lord Tatiseigi’s staff and reported themselves and their situation—but they so strongly believed failure would kill their relatives in Reijisan, they did not take the risk. That has been the character of the Shadow Guild from the start—to instill the belief they know everything, that reprisals inevitably come of crossing them, that they are threaded throughout the Shejidani Guild, and that they will target civilians. Our two believe it can happen, even yet, and we cannot assure them otherwise until we are absolutely sure, ourselves.”
“So they essentially told the truth,” Bren said.
“They were, they say, one of three teams protecting the former lord. And Pajeini knows them—wanted them, and, they think, the intent was to create a crisis in the north to draw forces from the south. We do not want to undertake operations with the young gentleman’s guests present, but—” Banichi said, “we know where Pajeini is, we have a good idea where Haikuti is, and we know where Shishoji is, a rare thing, in itself. The dowager is inclined to move.”
It was what he had feared, last night. It was everything he had sworn to Tabini would not happen—risk to Cajeiri, a potential for their young guests to be involved in a Guild action. Not to mention the risk to Ilisidi herself.
But that would exist, no matter what. Ilisidi was not going to fortify herself in Malguri and wait for an outcome. Far less did he believe she would go up to the space station . . . possibly that she would not want to send Cajeiri there—for political reasons. The heir of the aishidi’tat had been absent from one crisis. Even at his age—there was a problem in having him in human keeping during a second one. He saw that. But—
Damn.
“We have perhaps an hour before we get any other call,” Jago said. “Perhaps less. Will you share breakfast, Bren-ji?”
“Where are Tano and Algini this morning, nadiin-ji?”
“They are catching a little more sleep. They should be with us very soon now.”
“A cup of tea. Part of a roll, perhaps.”
Jago got up, got a cup and poured for him. The hot liquid helped the external chill. But not the one inside. His bare feet were freezing.
“There are actions under way,” Banichi said. “We have sent a warning to the commander in Amarja. We cannot be specific about it in this circumstance, but the dowager’s forces at Reijisan have now gotten their own sources of information on the Shadow Guild’s operation, and they will inform command. The matter of sending out locals unequipped—that requires a more delicate inquiry than we can make directly at this point—but the one to blame is likely one individual whose principle threat is in records, not weapons. We are not sending out couriers, badly as we need to pass word. We are not, at the moment, making any stir on the road or near the train station. The Kadagidi, meanwhile, have landed in a very uncomfortable position. One of the great advantages of Filing Intent, beyond, of course, operating within the law—is that the target is limited, everyone is advised, and there is far less chance of the sort of mistake the Kadagidi have made. Their intelligence does not seem to have penetrated Tatiseigi’s security, and consequently they have launched their operation in the presence of the aiji-dowager, the heir, and foreign guests. Is the aiji-dowager to let an Unfiled move in her vicinity pass without comment? No. Their illegal action has run head-on into the dowager’s intentions, while they are already under a ban. And that, one thinks, is exactly what the dowager is assessing. She could challenge them in court over this, and Tabini-aiji could remove Aseida from the lordship. But that would take time. The Shadow Guild connections would quietly rearrange themselves and we would still have them operating, not much inconvenienced: Haikuti would survive. Aseida might not.”
“She should go after them,” Jago said in a low voice. “We have the route the Dojisigi were to use. There is a hole in the hedge, Bren-ji, carefully concealed, and a door to the Kadagidi kitchens arranged to stay open. A trap, very possibly, but there are also reasons the Kadagidi would like to have a report from this pair. There is even a reason Haikuti would want to talk to them and that Pajeini would want these two back in the south. They would be an asset not lightly to be thrown away. And by then—they would be outlawed in the north, perfectly suited to take Pajeini’s other orders, possibly against Lord Machigi.”
“Are we ready for an operation? Did you get any sleep last night, nadiin-ji?”
“By turns,” Banichi said, and shrugged. “Do not worry about us, Bren-ji. We manage. Unfortunately, Cenedi chooses the teams to go. For this one—he will not risk us.”
“Do we know yet who on their side is directing operations?”
“To a certain extent,” Banichi said, “this far up the chain of command, it may make less difference. Assignments makes the strategic decisions, but he is very old and has never taken the field. Haikuti is the tactician. They both give orders. Shishoji believes he is firmly in charge. Haikuti is disposed to believe he has the authority if he chooses to use it, and that Shishoji will be forced to take care of the details. That is my own interpretation. Haikuti is the reckless one, the engine that drives things. If there is another coup in the making, at present, it will come from him.”
Something had changed. Something more had gotten into the equation last night. Banichi spoke as if he had some window into Assignments that he had not had a few days ago. And he looked unhappy with the situation.
“This is a chancy business,” he said. “To go into that house—”
“If the Kadagidi are paying any attention,” Banichi said, “and it is certain they are—they will have noted the furor last night. They may wonder was it the execution of the mission—or did it go astray? And if their spies have already gotten close enough to get a distant view of children out on the grounds, though we have tried to prevent that—they may now know it is not Tatiseigi alone in residence, and any question of where the dowager has taken the young gentleman and his guests is answered. The Dojisigi did not communicate with the Kadagidi once they were here and realized they had a problem with the mission. We have the means to be sure of that. But the news of what has happened this morning in the Dojisigin Marid will travel. Once it reaches Assignments, and the Kadagidi, one is relatively confident the Kadagidi—and possibly Assignments as well—will start taking protective measures. Assassinations, attacks from the field, political accusations—any means by which they might throw us off balance and destabilize the aishidi’tat. One does not like to think of explosives targeting villages anywhere, north or south, but
such things may be used in the north, just as easily, attacks aimed at our allies. These people are outnumbered. The majority of the south is now against them. If the light shines on them too directly—fear is the only weapon they have that we do not. The dowager’s view is that we have, in these few hours, a very narrow window in which to act or decline acting—and we concur. We should take action, in this venture into Kadagidi territory, but Cenedi will not permit it. The dowager will send Nawari, and two of her high-level units.”
Into a likely trap. If it were his own aishid going—he would be beside himself. That it was Nawari, genial, competent Nawari, closest to Cenedi himself—Cenedi was likely no less worried, but he had sent his best. His closest associate, the closest thing to going in, himself—with high, high risk in the operation.
“There is,” Bren said, “another way into the Kadagidi house.”
They looked at him, both. And he recalled he had sworn to himself not to interfere with his bodyguard.
“You are not to contemplate it,” Jago said. “No, Bren-ji.”
“If access and Lord Aseida’s attention is what you want, nadiin-ji, I can get it. We have the bus. We do not need to walk into that house, but I certainly can call on their lord. Socially. Noisily. Lord Tatiseigi has a grievous complaint against Lord Aseida, the dowager has one, Jase has one, and I am perfectly willing to deliver it in person. If we can pose a distraction while, say, Nawari and his men take a careful look at the other access . . .”
Banichi said, “The risk would still be extraordinary.”
“The bus has armor.”
“In some areas,” Jago said.
“There is also Jase’s bodyguard. He is the other paidhi. Another offended guest with his own complaint against Lord Aseida, and his bodyguard is formidable—and proof against our bullets. Kaplan and Polano cannot sit down in that armor, not in the bus seats. They have to stand where they stood on the way in. If the Kadagidi take alarm at that, and take a shot at the bus, even their armor-piercing rounds are not going to get through that armor. And after that—after an attack on us, we have the right to use any force we please. So, for that matter, does Jase, his ship, and Lord Geigi.”
There was a moment of silence.
“There are rather heavier weapons in their hands than armor-piercing rounds, Bren-ji,” Jago said. “And we may well meet them.”
“Is that more danger to us than a Shadow Guild campaign, violating every rule—while we have to obey the law? I am not happy with the notion of explosives being brought to villages, and I am not willing to see people of the dowager’s man’chi and mine take every precaution to observe a law these people freely disregard in their attacks. The Kadagidi have a history of raising claims about their rights. But we have them on failure to File, we have them in the two Dojisigi, who can give the lie to any claim of innocence Kadagidi clan wants to make. If they fire first, with them already under a ban, Tabini-aiji has justification to remove Aseida as lord, with any force it takes. The Shadow Guild has been constantly shifting targets, in this region and that, striking and departing, doing damage as they please. But Kadagidi is a fixed asset. We have them pinned down. And I do not intend to see any of our people observing Guild rules while the other side breaks them. We have the dowager to protect, and these foreign guests to protect. Jase-aiji has every right to use the defenses he has, and those run all the way to the station.”
There was a moment of silence, two guarded, worried looks. Then Banichi said: “And what will you answer if they accept a conference and Lord Aseida invites you and Jase inside?”
“I should then ask my aishid what I should answer, and I doubt you would advise that, in a household under the aiji’s ban.”
“They may simply bar the door,” Jago said.
“Frightening them is surely worth something. And meanwhile we have them pinned down, we can interdict anyone who comes out of that house, and Lord Geigi can drop something on their land, with a great deal of precision.”
“Bren-ji,” Banichi said, “your resolution never to advise your bodyguard is in serious breach.”
“Then advise me. I shall certainly hear advice. But I cannot lose you. And the dowager cannot lose Nawari. You—and Cenedi’s team—you have more importance than I do, when it comes to a fight inside the Guild. You know the names and histories of these people. You have accesses nobody else does. You are not expendable and I am, comparatively, in this part of the fight. If it requires a readjustment in your man’chi—make it. We cannot risk you, and I do not countenance Cenedi risking Nawari, either. He is doing this because he needs you, and he is staying meticulously within the law—but I do not agree he should. We should go in there prepared to deal damage, and Jase and I should make the approach, because our status gives you the right to take them on without a Filing on our side, if they compound their offense with one bullet headed our direction. If there is any legal question—any political question that follows this—then that is my expertise, nadiin-ji, and I will defend this decision. I would look forward to dealing with any counterclaim this old man in the Guild or his allies can make.”
There was a long silence. “We shall have to talk to Cenedi,” Banichi said, “and advise Tano and Algini. Not to mention the dowager herself. Speed in this is advisable. We do not know when news from the south may reach Guild Headquarters. —Jago.”
“Yes,” Jago said, got up, and headed for the door.
Banichi also left. They had things to arrange. Cenedi to consult.
He, meanwhile, had to talk to Jase—urgently.
• • •
“We have a problem,” was how he started the explanation, while Jase, roused from sleep, sat amid his bedclothes. Kaplan and Polano had opened the door, and stood in the little sitting-room, in their shorts.
He explained it. Jase raked a hand through his hair; then said: “We’re in. Can we get a pot of that strong tea in here?”
“Deal,” he said. “I’ve got a spare vest. Choice of colors, brown or green, and bulletproof. I’ll send it with the tea.”
“I’m not particular.” Jase raised his voice. “Kaplan. Polano. Full kit, hear it?”
“Aye, captain,” the answer came back, and Bren headed back through the sitting room, to get back next door and send Supani and Koharu in with the requisite items. Tea for three. One vest, proof against most bullets. He and Jase were about the same size.
The dowager could still countermand the operation, but while he was dispatching Supani and Koharu, Tano and Algini came in to gather up needed gear, and it was clear that that wasn’t happening.
“The aiji-dowager,” Algini said, “has sent for the bus.”
“We do not know the capabilities of Jase-aiji’s guard,” Tano added. “We understand they are considerable.”
“They are,” he said. He put on the green vest: he had sent the brown brocade over to Jase. He had on a reasonably good shirt, his good beige coat, and Koharu handed him his pistol and two spare clips. He tucked those into his coat pockets.
Banichi came back. “The bus is well on its way. The dowager has waked Lord Tatiseigi, who is not yet coherent, and she has instructed Cenedi to tell me to tell you to stay behind your bodyguard.”
“One earnestly promises it,” he said. It somewhat troubled him that Banichi seemed cheerful—in a dark and businesslike way. Banichi and Jago both had looked worn and tired less than an hour ago, when they had explained to him that they had been outranked on the mission. Now they were full speed ahead—and he had to ask himself whether he had put temptation in their path.
But he was right, damn it all. Putting Nawari in there to try to draw a response was the best of a bad job. Nawari was a perfectly legitimate target. They could not risk the dowager going over there—though she wasn’t a legitimate target. And Cenedi was going by the book, against a Guild problem that wouldn’t.
He was far from as cheerfu
l as his aishid in the prospect—it wasn’t in his makeup. But he’d been through hell down in the Marid, and he wasn’t Guild, with a traditional bent. He’d begun his career with a far simpler book, a dictionary of permitted words—and he’d watched that dictionary explode into full contact, up on the station.
He’d watched it work. There. Down here . . . he’d watched the world change, and he understood atevi for whom it had changed too fast. His job—his job, as Mospheira had originally defined it—was to keep the peace and recommend the rate at which star-faring technology would be safe in atevi hands.
In that sense, he’d failed miserably. But events had proceeded too fast, there’d been no time to temper the impact, and now . . .
A descent into the dark ages that had preceded the organization of the aishidi’tat would put a hell of a lot of inappropriate technology into inappropriate use. Hell if he was going to watch that happen.
And the instant he’d seen Jase, with a captain’s personal defenses, descending from the shuttle with the children—he’d had a little chill thought that Lord Geigi had sent him. Lord Geigi had gotten that briefing on his way to orbit. Geigi knew the situation inside the Guild. Knew exactly how it had to be stopped.
Geigi might have recommended the children come ahead. And he might have given the facts of the situation to the other captains, who were hell-bent on seeing the children’s mission work out, not in some ideal situation, but involved in the world as it was.
Jase had come down with just his bodyguard. The ship-paidhi.
With his bodyguard. From the starship.
Geigi, he suspected, had sat back at his desk, scarily satisfied.
17
The bus trundled onto the drive at the very edge of dawn, a slight blush to the sky above the hedges. It had a secret, sinister look, its red and black both muted by the dim light, except where the front door light cast its own artificial brilliance.
Black, too, the uniforms of the Guild who quietly boarded, stowing some pieces of heavier armament Bren hoped did not come into play. The rest, and the electronics, were hand-carried briskly toward the rear. It was war they were preparing.