“Nandi,” Nomari said with some feeling. “You are far more than generous to us. My people, many of them, have not met such hospitality anywhere.”
Uncle nodded, as servants began serving. “Well, well, we are glad to provide it. We are sending staff out this evening, too, to be sure of the tent ropes and drainage in the prospect of weather, so have your people understand that we are concerned for their comfort, and we are by no means conducting an inspection of their affairs. Our advisements from Lord Geigi up on the space station inform us there is an uncommonly large system forming out in the great ocean, in anticipation of which we should take some precautions. We expect a strong wind coming in from the southwest, with rain and likely hail. The tents should withstand it with no problems, indeed, but we wish to be sure, in case some of your people should be unfamiliar with such circumstances. My staff will assure the tents can withstand the blow. We may have several days of rain and wind.”
“Your concern is greatly appreciated, nandi.”
“Be assured these tents have more than once withstood strong weather.” The first course was served, quietly, a savory soup. “We use these seasonally for hunts and festivals, and we have taken care that your camp should sit on the highest part of the pasturage, not an apparent hill, but enough of a hill, I think, to keep you snug and dry. The hedges, distant as they are, will likewise take some of the force.”
“They are extraordinary,” Nomari said, “these hedges. One had heard of them, but never seen them.”
“Never?” Uncle was always pleased to talk about Tirnamardi, and it was polite of Nomari to offer a dinner topic himself, after two days at Uncle’s table with Uncle providing the discussion. “Well, we are glad to afford shelter within them. Ajuri itself, you may know, had such hedges once. And there was a great hedge to the north, in the old warlike days. It was a great shame to take them down, but they had become neglected, and they do take constant maintenance. They once made a maze, do you know, from Ajuri to Dur, and from Dur up to Sura, which is how the Padi Valley maintained itself unassailable.”
“I have heard about the maze,” Nomari said. “And I have seen the old line by the north road. But the ones at Tirnamardi were the heart of it.”
“True,” Uncle said. “And even cannon were not effective against them. Downed, they still obstructed, in the siege of Diegi, among others. Fire was the greatest threat, and so long as they were green, the defenders still had the advantage. It was a difficult matter there for a rider bearing a fire-pot to get close, and even so, the result was likely to be put out. So long as the hedges stood as a maze, the central plains were a difficult place for large forces to move, which was good for the peace and independence of the region. But the hunting did suffer immensely as a consequence. The herd tallies go far, far back, and the great herds of the midlands have prospered mightily since the removals.”
“You would never take down the hedges of Tirnamardi, surely, nandi, for any advantage.”
“Never. Never. They are the last of their kind. Atageini views it as a historic trust. Though, mind, no single section is original. As the trees age and die and we cut them, we have always kept a section of the heart, and we Atageini have learned to count the rings to reckon their age and mark events long before the wise minds in Science thought to do so. We have a perfect record of their growth, and consequently of the weather, going back one thousand twelve hundred and thirty-eight years. We preserve these old pieces to this day, making a continuous record.”
“I had never heard it, Uncle!” Cajeiri exclaimed. “Are they here?”
“Indeed they are!” Uncle said. “I would show our guest, as well, should he be disposed to see it.”
“I would be honored,” Nomari said, “greatly honored, nandi.”
“I shall show you after dinner,” Uncle said, “where we keep a great many such things.”
• • •
It was an excellent supper, more than enough for Cajeiri’s appetite, and a dessert of custard and berries.
Then they had a treat far better than the desserts: they went down to the basement, where, with his bodyguard attending, Uncle took them on a tour of his collections. Uncle showed Nomari the great beast in its case, and they went on to the pottery, and armor and old weapons.
Nomari asked questions, good questions, which pleased Uncle, too. Nomari had read things, and studied things, and knew dates, and Uncle was asking close questions to find out how much Nomari knew—Cajeiri began to suspect that was the case, because Uncle knew history better than anyone. Likely Nomari suspected it, too, and answered everything he could. Nomari knew a lot, clearly, about the history between Ajuri and its neighbors, but that knowledge grew thin in places, and Uncle happily expounded on it, a great flow of things Cajeiri had never heard, and stored up for his own questions someday.
Then, after all the early history of the first rooms, they entered a side room Cajeiri had never seen, in this warren of little halls. They went down a stair to a sub-basement, and Uncle’s bodyguard opened a door onto a place quite chill, and turned on the lights.
The walls held rows and rows of varnished slices of wood, with some of their rings marked with little brass buttons, with a legend and date written underneath each piece.
“This is not a cross-section of every planting ever cut,” Uncle explained, though it looked as though it might be. “But these are the ones which, taken collectively, show the entire sequence of the history of the hedge system. Fortunately, the early keepers preserved the hearts for superstitious and historic reasons long before anyone ever realized they might be read like a book.”
Uncle went on to point out certain pieces of particular significance, showing them a sequence of prosperity and a time of fire, related to a battle at the hedges, where Tirnamardi had stood off forces from the south. That would mean the Taibeni, back in the early wars.
Nomari listened meanwhile and asked more questions, really good questions that Uncle was happy to answer. The evening was all such a success that Cajeiri began to think, which was stupid to think, that he really might get that chance to go riding after all, if things with Ajuri really began to sort out.
But it would not happen, he told himself. Not this trip. Nothing political ever worked so smoothly or so absolutely trusted as that. Everything had to be sure and slow, because people’s lives depended on being sure.
And the matter of being sure continued afterward, upstairs, in the sitting area of the great hall, where Uncle served Nomari brandy. Cajeiri sat with them, with fruit juice. Nomari had received every courtesy due a guest: Nomari was happy, and Uncle was happy. That was, after as many questions as had flown back and forth this evening, a good sign.
With brandy one could talk business, and it gave a chance for his question about Nomari’s mysteriously productive day . . . but he had no need to ask it, since Uncle himself delved right into it.
It turned out that Uncle already knew what Nomari had been doing: Nomari had been helping Uncle’s Guild bodyguards interview his people, with his presence to reassure them.
“Our guest’s associates have come from various guilds,” Uncle observed. “The Messengers, Transportation, the Treasurers, even, as well as the Merchants and Weavers and such, are all represented, and they have answered freely the names of their houses and villages. Very many tradesmen and skilled workers are among them. And a handful of families once situated at Ajiden.” That was the principal Ajuri house. “We are encouraged to know it.”
That mattered. It mattered in what man’chi the people out there might hold; and how strong their man’chi might be to Nomari himself. The Guild could tell them more about that, how likely it was these people told the truth and all the truth, and where they had really come from, and how and why they attached to Nomari. That was what Uncle had to know if he was going to break precedent and surprise his political allies by nominating not only a second candidate, but a co
mplete stranger to politics.
“But,” Uncle said, “we have missed interviewing a few.”
“One is aware,” Nomari said, frowning. “And I have, truly, asked them to cooperate, all of them. But for some—my request may not overcome their fear of being written down.”
“Do you know these people, personally, nadi, of those who refuse to be written?”
“I know many of them. Indisi of Paita is one. Of the Merchants. I have known him for years, and I personally reassured him the information was proper to give. But he is not a trusting fellow. I put him on the list myself.”
“Interesting,” Uncle said, “that that name does not appear in Guild records.”
The room seemed a little less friendly then. Everything hung still and no servant moved.
“Then I am surprised,” Nomari said quietly. “That is the name I have known for ten years. But some of my people have gone under several names, and one has changed guilds. I assure you, nandi, when I find him tonight, I will ask him personally.”
“Muri of Sigani,” Uncle said. “And Hapeini also called Maigin. And Suri of Ardiyan. They were reported as entering the grounds, but now do not appear among those interviewed, nor does anyone know them.”
“I do not know their faces,” Nomari said, frowning, “but I will find them and get the information. I asked those who may have given false names to give true ones, but it may confuse the records.”
“Fear,” Uncle said.
“Fear,” Nomari said. “Yes. A great deal of fear. With long years of reason, nandi. One appreciates your understanding, and I am concerned. I shall ask. I will find them.”
Three people—not only hiding from Uncle’s questions, Cajeiri thought, but possibly maintaining false names even toward Nomari.
Fear of Uncle was reasonable, but if Nomari was their lord, and he had asked them all to answer truthfully, it was not only a security problem, it measured Nomari, as well as it measured the people who had ducked the questions. If his influence was not strong enough to get the truth from his people, if he could not win their trust and get proper information despite their fears—he was not the man who could walk into Ajuri and take the clan away from Great-aunt Geidaro.
Man’chi did not protect a person from those outside it. But it could make people stand between him and murder. And man’chi went downward, to make lords value their people, and upward, to make people protect their lords with their lives.
Grandfather, as lord of Ajuri, had been afraid. He had shown fear in his situation, and there had been good reason for it—Shishogi, who had sat for years where he was unreachable, commanding the most dangerous people in the world—and Father, not trusting Grandfather—trusting him less the closer he tried to come. But all the same, Grandfather should have been able, if he had been a strong lord, to have gotten enough man’chi, and inspired a band of defenders. If he had had that, he would not have died as he had—alone. If he had gathered real loyalty—he might have made it impossible for Great-aunt Geidaro to take over, even after his death, because people did suspect she was at least complicit in his downfall.
But Grandfather had panicked and lost his people. He knew that now. Grandfather had scared him when he had made such persistent attempts to get close to him, because he had not been able to understand the situation—but now he was convinced in his own mind that Grandfather had tried to get close to him not because he was attacking or because he meant to harm him, but because he was afraid, too afraid to go to Father and accuse the people who needed accusing. Probably he had had no proof—Shishogi’s misdeeds were locked within a secretive office in a secretive guild.
But he still should have gathered up his courage and done it.
Was Nomari like that? Was Nomari going to lose people and excuse them with long years of ‘they have reason?’
That was not enough. Nomari had to say—just—I shall get your answer, nandi.
Or was he more like nand’ Bren, who would excuse his worst enemy because nand’ Bren was strong, and reserved hope of getting their man’chi no matter what? Nand’ Bren was scary that way. Nand’ Bren scared his more resolute enemies because he was terribly hard to stop once he was on a track.
Great-grandmother, too, could excuse people one would never expect she would excuse. Which made her scary, because she was terribly dangerous, and it was not always clear what she was thinking or why she did things.
Was Nomari one of that sort—spooky and having his own ways?
Or was he like Grandfather—scared? Just scared—all his life, and taking Shishogi’s orders when he had to?
Even if Uncle decided against Nomari, and chose not to nominate him, Nomari would no longer be invisible. He would become a target. If Nomari was right, every Ajuri who opposed Great-aunt Geidaro became a target, and thus far nobody had come forward with a personality strong enough to take Ajuri—Father had let Great-aunt Geidaro alone, he suspected, only because a worse thing seemed having Ajuri fall apart entirely. That clan had a history a thousand years old. And it could well go down, after all its losses. It could completely break apart, and that would cause all sorts of trouble in the midlands, at a time when they most needed things to hang together. Ajuri had a lot of tiny subclans, and those would suddenly be in play with every neighbor of Ajuri lands, like a body being picked apart by scavengers.
So Uncle might say nothing further on the matter of missing people and false names, but one could imagine security was concerned. Uncle slid the talk on to other questions, such as the people’s willingness to remain camped for any long number of days.
Uncle did not mention that he had been making phone calls today. The phone calls were unusual in themselves—Uncle detested phones—and Cajeiri thought Uncle might have been calling Great-grandmother, who also detested phones, but his aishid was not sure. Even the seniors said they were not sure. And when they were not sure—that could mean they were ordered not to say, or they really were not sure, and they were too new with him for him to be sure which it was.
But if Uncle was calling Great-grandmother by phone, that meant Uncle might be making Nomari’s presence here at Tirnamardi just a shade more public than he had done, and cross-checking his information with mani, because the Guild—the Guild, the Assassins’ Guild—was the one way to get information back and forth quietly. The Messengers’ Guild, who handled the phone system, was notoriously corrupt—so that talking about things on the phone was the last thing before announcing it on the evening news.
Uncle’s questions leaked to the usual places might also let specific Guilds know what was going on, which was sometimes a good idea, because the Guilds likely already knew pieces of things, and it was sometimes helpful to give them a way to put things together. He had seen Great-grandmother do that, more than once. Father had slipped news out to the Guilds when it came to announcing that Mother was going to have another baby, because all the lords needed to know first, before the people did.
So everybody would act and talk as if they had no idea on one level, but what they did secretly was another. It was always like that.
And letting the news about Nomari loose among the lords could be a good thing, if Uncle was sure he wanted various people to get used to the possibility . . . including the conservative lords that Uncle had just refused to please. They might not be happy. They might start messaging through the Guild and asking questions and making suggestions—because while custom said Uncle could not follow a rejected nomination with a second one, out of courtesy to Father, there was nothing really stopping him if Father said to do it.
But that also meant that fairly soon Uncle really needed to reach a decision that would be really notoriously embarrassing to back down from. So before Uncle took that step, he did need to explain things to Father and get his approval—because, Cajeiri thought, his own senior aishid would have already told the Guild what was going on, and probably have told Father in
as much detail as they could.
The true wonder was that Father had not sent anybody of his staff here—which probably meant that Father had not told Mother what was going on at her uncle’s estate, and maybe Mother thought her son was having a good time, riding his mecheita every day and eating too much.
But Father would surely be watching, and once Uncle had some clear idea what he wanted to do, there needed to be messengers going back and forth, and everybody needed to agree before anything went entirely public.
He had asked his junior aishid if they had heard of any contact from Father—they had heard nothing, and he was sure that was the truth. He hesitated even to ask the seniors—the Guild was not inclined to talk about its more political moves. Besides, the seniors, despite their jokes, were just a little too scary, and he did not want to let them know what he was thinking, or how much he could figure out, in case he needed to slip their notice on something.
Being around grownups was certainly very much more interesting once he knew how things worked. And in this case—Nomari himself might not know half the things he knew.
So he was sure his father would find out fairly quickly whatever his father needed to know, without a nine-year-old son stirring up the highest levels of the Guild to ask too many questions that might, by some mischance, slip into Mother’s ears. Father would do something when it was the right time to do it.
Meanwhile, without too much of a stir in the upper levels of the Guild, Father could conveniently pretend not to know anything, until he needed to do something.
Cajeiri really hoped Nomari turned out to be somebody they could deal with. He did not, at least, get the impression that Nomari was a bad man. And it would solve so many problems if someday Ajuri could be trusted and be a good neighbor to the Atageini.