Pretender

  “He has the mandate,” the answer snapped back.

  “He has called the legislature. Have they assembled?”

  The Ajuri’s information. Tabini committed them all on a dice roll.

  And Guild silence met that question, for at least three heartbeats.

  “Equal evidence exists on either side,” the Guildsman said, lines deepening around his mouth. “No one will move from current positions tonight. No attack, no retreat. We are here officially to make Guild judgment, in response to a request from the Atageini lord, and we demand lodgings.” This, swinging his gaze from Tabini to Tatiseigi. “This is a demand, nand’ Tatiseigi.”

  “You are our guests,” Tatiseigi said, not happily, and waved a hand at the desperate servant staff, namely the major domo standing by the inner door. “The green suite,” he said.

  The old major domo came close and bent down to his lord’s ear to whisper a protest, but he managed perhaps two words before Tatiseigi cut him off with, “The Ajuri will still take the east.” In a furious not-quite-whisper, and with a wave of his hand at a second, anguished protest. “Move my grandson somewhere, beneficent gods! He is a minor child!”

  It was an ungraceful moment; it embarrassed the old lord, who was not coping well with the situation. The displacement was a family embarrassment, the Ajuri were already unhappy, but perhaps not so unhappy as Ilisidi, and the Guild was not a comfortable neighbor to anyone.

  “They may have my room, great-uncle,” Cajeiri said in his high, distinctive voice, “since I am moving in with great-grandmother.”

  “He is perfectly welcome,” Ilisidi said frostily, “since this visitor is so arrogant as to make demands the aiji of Shejidan himself would scruple to make on a historic and damaged house. He has interrupted our supper with his demands, he has tracked sawdust on the floor, he has been inconvenient, inconsiderate and late! He brings no documentation, he begins his investigations in the dark of night, and he disrespects his host…”

  That alone, echoing in the lofty ceiling, accompanied by the sharp crack of Ilisidi’s cane for emphasis, created a stir in the room, and at that very moment, piling confusion dangerously atop disorganization, an entirely new party arrived through the double doors, escorted in by a handful of Taibeni rangers and a cluster of young men in an unlikely mix of worn hunting gear and lordly dress and casuals.

  The center of the arriving commotion, hurried along by this unlikely guard, was a frail and elderly gentleman, his queue half undone and his white hair wisping about his beaming face.

  Grigiji, Astronomer Emeritus, blithely ignored the glowering Guild, ignored Tabini-aiji as if he had seen him not half an hour ago, and his face lit in thorough, undisguised, childlike delight as his eyes discovered Bren and the dowager.

  “Ah, dowager-ji! One was absolutely sure you would be here! We saw the ship from the little telescope. My students informed me, we informed the aiji, of course—” A little bow toward Tabini. “And we came here as fast as we could. How was the voyage? Have you brought data for us?”

  Bren rose desperately in a hall not his own, and gave a little bow, trying to manage the situation with this good old man before Guild indignation unraveled everything. “The dowager has brought back the most astounding things, nand’ Astronomer.” No lie at all, but with that lure, he had gained the Astronomer Emeritus’ absolute attention, and was aware simultaneously the hostile Guild was hearing all of it—not with the same delight that shone in the old court Astronomer’s face, and possibly to very different political effect. He aggressively expanded on his statement. “We have documents. The mission was an unqualified success. The danger to the aishidi’tat is much abated—but grown complex.”

  “Indeed,” Ilisidi said.

  The Guild, meanwhile, stood clearly upstaged in its own moment.

  “A chair for the Astronomer,” Tatiseigi said meaningfully, but in vain, as Grigiji moved to pay a bow to Ilisidi, to exchange a few pleasantries, and only then meandered on to Tabini and Damiri, all as if he were at some social gathering—and knowing Grigiji, one could think perhaps that great and childlike mind had quite missed the significance of the Guild presence: They weren’t people he knew, and Bren held his breath for fear the old man would wander on and introduce himself to them. The Guild for its part was thoroughly insulted, no doubt of it, and they glowered at the major domo who had let the Astronomer in, and who attempted, in the small lull, to inform the Guildsmen where they might lodge.

  The Guild senior muttered something ungracious. Then in a voice that suddenly carried over all the chaos: “We are here to observe, and what we observe we will take into account, nandiin. Where we wish information, we will ask it. We may and we may not proceed to formal hearing on your question.”

  With which the Guildsmen turned and walked out, a black clot of ill will, in a silence still quivering with those deep tones.

  The doors shut, hard, with no one to manage them.

  “Well,” said Grigiji, “well.” With those perpetually astonished eyes. He was out of breath, windblown, so frail-looking his physical body seemed faded. The life that was in him burned through, all the same, like a star through the fear the Guild had brought in, while his students dispersed about the peripheries of the hall as his bodyguard. These youths, of various social classes, in various shades of dust and informality of dress, mingled with frowning Guildsmen all about the hall. Grigiji’s bodyguard: His students, a motley group of gangling collegiates, but far more martial were his second escort of graceful, silent Taibeni, with their personal armament of hunting rifles and knives. “Those gentlemen seem rather out of countenance, do they not?”

  “One doubts,” Tabini said dryly, “that they depart more disturbed than they arrived.”

  “Ha,” Ilisidi said, leaning on her cane. “Very welcome termination of that sorry display. Bravely done, Gri-ji.”

  “Very dangerously done,” Lord Tatiseigi muttered. “And under my roof!”

  “Pish! Wisely handled, Tati-ji, wisely and deftly managed. Nand’ Bren, very deftly done.”

  “Nand’ dowager.” Bren managed a bow and sank back into his chair, wishing he were back upstairs, and far from confident he had been at all wise to drop that information into the pool.

  “But where are these records you name?” the Astronomer asked. “Might we see them?”

  “In due time, nand’ Astronomer,” Tabini said, getting to his feet. “A staff meeting may be in order at this point, to bring everyone up to the moment. Will any of your young gentlemen choose to attend, nand’ Astronomer?”

  Staff meeting. Almost universally Guild staff, that was the irony—a meeting regarding the deadly presence that had entered their midst, with events and perhaps other Assassins subtly percolating through the countryside, all aiming here, at Tabini. And new information in the mix: the non-appearance of legislators summoned to the capital, the claim of these three Guild officers to an authority the validity of which no outsider to their Guild had the means to determine. The whole business had the ominous tension of a landslide just on the verge, and at least the Astronomer’s students, not being as unworldly as the Astronomer, all looked worried at their inclusion in that suggestion.

  “Aiji-ma,” the senior of that lot said, bowing his head, while Kadiyi of Ajuri clan moved close for a word with his niece, Damiri casting up a worried, frowning glance at that whispering.

  Bren sucked in a deep breath and cast a look to his own right, where Banichi loomed; not a word had he had from Banichi or Jago, although he was sure they had observations.

  The Atageini and the aiji’s guard had fortified a line out there with buses and trucks and farmers with hunting rifles but clearly that wasn’t how the greatest threat had come to them. It had come up as three men at their door, answering a letter, and demanding to spend the night under their roof, right in the heart of their defenses.

  And they still weren’t that sure of the men around Tabini.

  “Are we to have supper at all?” th
e older Ajuri lord asked petulantly, amid all this. “Are we finally to be served the rest of our supper at some time this evening, respecting the noble efforts of your poor cook, nandi?”

  The very thought of food turned Bren’s stomach.

  But on the other hand having dinner was a practical notion. It fortified them against the night. It flew the banner of the completely ordinary in the face of that arrogant intrusion. It gave staffs time to confer without lordly interference. Tatiseigi, appearing quite glad to have the distraction from present dangers, gathered himself up and said yes, they should resume their dinner, and in short order, too—the new arrivals were to have a cold supper sent to their quarters.

  By Tatiseigi’s tone, one had the feeling the supper offering might not be much beyond bread and cold sausages—a gesture of hospitality only, since even the paidhi could guess that the Guild on a mission would be very little likely to trust the house cuisine. One decidedly didn’t want them near the kitchens, the other alternative, letting them observe down there.

  No. Not at all a good idea, Bren thought. One wanted those three shut in their quarters, not stirring out, and one very much doubted they remotely had that intention…except to the degree they had agents slipping about in the bushes, while their officers diverted attention to themselves.

  It seemed, in that light, a good moment for the paidhi, excluded from the dinner invitation, to retreat and consult. Bren got up quietly and slipped to the doorward side of the room, Banichi and Jago with him. They opened the door. He turned, bowed—no one showed interest—and left, entrusting Cajeiri to his great-grandmother and Tabini to his own devices.

  “Come,” Jago said quietly once that door was shut and they stood outside, amid a very small scattering of other Guild. “We should go back upstairs, nandi, where we have some control over the perimeter.”

  The operationally dual we, with the -ta, the numerical compensator, as if she were going with him, but as if Banichi were not.

  Staff meeting, Tabini had said, but Bren had a terrible suspicion, given the businesslike frown on Jago’s face, that what happened next could be far more active than a debate. People could die, right in the meeting, by way of a vote. And he had no doubt at all there were Guild out on the grounds, if not already inside the house. They might have begun to lose this battle without most of the house knowing they were in it.

  But what could he say, out here in front of witnesses? “Yes,” he said, and to Banichi, with a lingering look, “Take utmost care, Banichi-ji.”

  “Always,” Banichi said smoothly, and Jago brushed a gesture against Bren’s shoulder—move now, that meant. Go.

  No arguments. No choice at all.

  5

  It was quick passage up the stairs, back to Bren’s own rooms, where Jago’s patterned knock drew a sound of soft footsteps from inside. Tano answered the door and let them in. Algini waited, gun drawn, at the end of the foyer. That gun slipped quickly back into its holster.

  But a rapid set of hand-signals passed between Jago, Tano, and Algini, while Bren stood in the foyer thinking quite desperately what he could possibly do to help them.

  He found no practical use for himself in what was going on apace—he did catch the signal that meant going downstairs, which might be Jago reporting Banichi’s going down into the workings of Lord Tatiseigi’s house, down to the guard stations and other establishments. But there was another sign that meant hostile movement, and they signed understanding, agreement.

  Then Jago did a curious thing. She went into the room, retrieved his computer from its hiding place, and set it on the table.

  Maybe there was a use for him. Bren went to oversee this handling of an instrument so precious to their affairs. She meaningfully drew back a chair in front of the machine and signalled Tano and Algini to come over.

  Bren sat down and silently brought up the typing function, keying over to Ragi as Jago drew up a second chair beside him.

  She drew the machine over into range and typed, for the two looking over her shoulder, perhaps most of all for his benefit: Gegini has arrived with two of his lieutenants, claiming to speak for the Guild regarding a letter from this household. There will be others outside who have not made themselves evident.

  Algini and Tano, reading over her shoulder, assumed a grim look—Bren flung a glance in their direction, then looked again at the screen, where Jago had typed quickly:

  The old Guildmaster should have sent. Clearly he has not. Either he is dead or this is an unauthorized mission, attempting to claim authority over us. Gegini is a Padi Valley man, Madi clan. He is here acting as if he were Guildmaster.

  That was a small clan, attached—Bren raked his years-ago memory—to the Ragi on one hand, to the Taibeni and to the Kadagidi by blood and marriage. This Gegini, a name he had never heard, was a man with ties in all directions; a dangerous man, if disposed to be—and acting as if he were Guildmaster? To his experience, that entity never admitted his identity, never advertised his office—he permitted no likeness, gave no interviews, wore no identifying badge, and carried no special credentials. So rumor said of an individual only other Guild could identify, by signs outsiders didn’t know.

  Atageini Guild reports numerous things. The vote for the Guild to act to overthrow an aiji requires a two-thirds majority, and it was reported to the Guild that the coup against Tabini-aiji was an accomplished fact, and that he was dead. When it was reported within a few hours that he was alive, the Guild should have moved in his support. It did not act. When it was proposed the Guild should throw Murini out of Shejidan, there was a vote on the question, which legally should not have happened, since it falsely supposed that the two-thirds majority rule was needed to overthrow Murini under those circumstances. It was a clever move, calling the vote that way, and calling on short notice. We and the dowager’s staff and Lord Geigi’s were absent in space. Others who would have voted for intervention were at Malguri and on the coast. Atageini Guild were not notified at all, except to send proxies, who were not properly instructed as to the question. The aiji’s staff, half of whom were dead and should not have been counted, were counted, along with the living members of that staff, as wilfully absent. Several other large contingents were called back by attacks aimed at their interests.

  “God,” Bren said finally—sure that his staff had known this much from Lord Geigi’s staff before they ever left the station—everything but the bits that involved Tabini: Those had likely dropped into the pot here, only filling out the scandal. The Guild never talked about its private business, he wasn’t entirely sure any lord downstairs had heard the half of it, and he was sure he was reading this now only because his staff was dangerously willing to breach Guild silence. Maybe it was because he was human, maybe it was because he didn’t twitch to the same instincts or have a wide and entangled man’chi.

  Maybe it was because there was nowhere he could even accidentally pass such deadly secrets…secrets deadly to public confidence in the Guild itself, if this shameful business leaked.

  God, did they possibly want his advice what to do, the head of their own Guild having proved unable to stop this?

  It went on.

  The meeting hour was moved up and proxies did not arrive until the vote was over. Two of Lord Geigi’s house were killed on the way, and no one has heard from the Guildmaster since the hour of the vote. The rumor in this house is that he is dead. This has been the state of affairs since the day after the attack on the aiji’s household.

  No wonder his staff had gone about with very grim faces.

  Jago typed: Now Gegini has made his first public move, coming here as if he were Guildmaster. We believe he is no more than Murini’s agent, and that any vote in the Guild that he has had a hand in is no legitimate vote. His presence here is ostensibly in response to the gathering and to the letters. By coming here and taking a hand as judge, he is effectively calling himself Guildmaster, and since no one knows the face or the age of the Guildmaster, no one but Guild can contrad
ict him. We, along with the Atageini, suspect the old Guildmaster has died or is under duress.

  A thought leaped to mind. Bren reached for the computer and slid it back. He typed: Have the Atageini Guild told their lord these things? And are not the Ajuri in effect a part of the Kadagidi Association? Are they possibly here as Gegini’s allies?

  Jago slid the machine back to her section of table. As for the Atageini staff, they have said little to their lord.

  With good reason. Tatiseigi, honest old man, would have exploded and thrown Gegini off his doorstep when he showed up, putting the fat well and truly into the fire.

  The Ajuri position is ambiguous and cannot be comfortable at this moment, if indeed the Ajuri Guildsmen have informed their lord. It was clear that Tabini-aiji places some confidence in the information the Ajuri brought him, and it did not seem to be information known to Gegini. That may have embarrassed him.

  Tabini’s citing Kadiyi’s information about the legislature in rebellion. In retrospect, throwing that information onto the table assumed the character of a major risk—though it did appear to have scored, when Tabini had used it…as if perhaps Gegini’s information was not as thorough or as free-flowing as he might have thought.

  He snagged the computer back again. Tabini used Kadiyi’s information, seeming to rely on it. It appeared to hit unexpectedly. Is it possible the Ajuri in coming here and delivering this news are representing a hitherto silent segment of the Kadagidi Association itself, and signaling possible opposition to Murini within his own clan?

  Back to Jago, rapidly. We have attempted to find such indications in these events, but the Ajuri Guildsmen are close-mouthed and large-eyed.

  A proverb meaning they said nothing useful and were nosy in the extreme, poking into household business.

  But we are speculating in all this, Jago wrote.

  In writing his letter of appeal to the Guild, he had thought he knew who he was writing to. He had assumed a true impartiality on the part of the Guild and Banichi and Jago had never warned him otherwise. He slid the machine back: Did you know these things when you aided my sending the letter?