Conspirator

  “Love to you,

  Bren.”

  He folded the note, didn’t even use the wax seal, just handed it to the boy.

  “Forgive my asking this of you, nadi, but go back down; and if there should be gunfire, fall down, get under the bushes and stay there. Someone will come to rescue you. The letter inquires into nand’ Toby’s situation and says he is welcome under this roof, but the situation up here is still hazardous and I personally cannot come down to the dock. He may be safer to remain in the harbor, possibly offshore. There may still be snipers. If he chooses to come up here, he will have the safety of the house. Advise persons guarding the dock exactly what I have said, and wait for a written reply from nand’ Toby if he chooses.”

  “Yes, nandi!”

  “Samandi is your name, is it not?”

  “Yes, nandi!” A second bow, a bright, so-innocent look. “Thank you, nandi.”

  “Please. Please be careful.”

  “Yes, nandi.”

  The boy was off like a shot.

  And twice damn!

  No calling the law in the district. He was the law in the district.

  The two that attacked had been high-level Guild, no question, and on the highest levels, the Guild all knew one another. Algini in particular, who had served the last Guildmaster, likely knew their affiliations, and probably there was a host of other questions about the attack that his bodyguard would be discussing in detail. It was a discussion in which no non-Guild was welcome, not even the aiji.

  Meanwhile his brother might be on his way up, most likely, with Barb; and God knew what “damage” meant. Or how incurred. Toby was a good sailor. A very good sailor.

  He went out to the hall, down into the dining room, and went to the kitchens himself, or nearly so . . . he had reached midway in the serving hall before he met a servant, and he had only reached midway to the turn to the kitchen before the cook came hurrying out.

  “Nandi! We are nearly ready to serve. One has your message, your staff and the dowager’s men—”

  “There is more, Suba-ji. My brother and his lady have just put into dock. He may or may not come up to the house—be warned that there could be two more. At very least we shall need to send supper down to them.”

  A bow. Suba carried a towel, and wiped his floury hands with that, looking somewhat satisfied. “Nandi, we have cooked enough for a seige. Every dish can be reheated, saved, served, or added to—nothing grand, but nothing to disgrace the house.”

  “Every credit to the house, in your forethought, Suba-ji. One should never have been concerned. Excellent.”

  “We shall be serving momentarily. We have rung the bells.”

  Up and down the servants’ halls, that was: staff was advised of breakfast in the offing.

  “Thank you. Thank you, Suba-ji,” he said, and walked out into the dining room, down the hall. He got no further than the intersection when the dowager emerged from her quarters with a grim-faced Cenedi in attendance, and the young gentleman and his two attendants . . . the dowager disconcertingly resplendent in morning-dress, and from some source—possibly clothes the dowager had picked up in Shejidan when she refueled—the heir was himself kitted out in an impeccable blue coat. The paidhi was far less elegant.

  “Aiji-ma,” Bren said, encountering them, and gave a little bow.

  The dowager said, with a little inclination of her head: “The paidhi’s house is set in disarray this morning. One hears the lost are found. How are your people?”

  “Well enough, aiji-ma, with thanks for the attendance of the physician.”

  “One regrets the situation, nand’ paidhi.”

  “On the other hand, aiji-ma, the stir did thoroughly beat the bushes. We know now things we had not known. One only deeply regrets the cost of it.”

  “Indeed,” Ilisidi said grimly. “And my grandson has work to do, a great deal of work to do.”

  “Our staffs should consult, aiji-ma.”

  “Our staffs will consult,” she said. “Meanwhile my grandson will be making inquiries in Dalaigi. But enough business. We are here. We are alive this morning. Things might have gone differently.”

  They had reached the door of the dining room. Bren stood just to the side to let the dowager and her escort, and Cajeiri and his, enter.

  In that moment he caught a motion from the tail of his eye, Koharu and Supani coming fast.

  He could not forbear a smile. Staff would not let him be caught at disadvantage. Supani whisked his day-coat off, Koharu helped him on with the jacket, just that fast, and he entered the dining room with the honor of the household assuaged, before his guests had more than reached their chairs.

  He had noted a tableful of place settings. It turned out to be sufficient for all present, Cook’s sense of protocols, including their guests’ personal staffs. Suba thoughtfully stood in the service doorway to receive initial compliments, thus signaling he expected no further formal notice for this informal breakfast: only serving staff would interrupt them.

  So Cenedi sat by the dowager. Therefore the Taibeni might sit with Cajeiri, Bren sat to himself, and there was hardly a word exchanged, while the initial serving—eggs—diminished.

  “A bit of news. My brother has returned to dock,” Bren informed the dowager. “The report is that his boat has suffered damage. He may elect to come up the hill. One has advised him of hazard up here.”

  “Damage,” the dowager said.

  “One has no idea, aiji-ma, of extent or nature. One is concerned. But there is no word as yet.”

  “The paidhi should remain here,” Ilisidi said firmly, “and let staff ascertain this.”

  “One has sent a note down. We may hear during breakfast, aiji-ma.”

  Tano and Algini might agree to go down: they could communicate. Most of the staff could not. But they might elect not to leave him. And Ilisidi was right: he had become a target.

  Trust staff. Believe that his staff would not leave Toby and Barb unattended or their needs unguessed.

  “Well, well, one hopes the damage is slight. No injuries?”

  “Not that I have heard, aiji-ma.”

  “Good, good.”

  After that, and properly so, not a word of business else. The dowager put away a healthy breakfast, drank three cups of tea—Bren managed one helping and a half.

  “We need not wait for removal of the dishes,” Ilisidi said. “We have business to undertake. Young gentleman, you may retire.”

  Cajeiri’s mouth opened in dismay.

  And silently shut. The head bowed. The young lord rose. His companions rose, and they all bowed in nearunison. “Yes, mani,” Cajeiri said.

  That, perhaps, won redemptive points for the young gentleman. Bren sat still as the youngest left the table together. He did suffer a second’s concern, that it meant Cajeiri and his companions were now loose and unwatched, but there was a sort of rhythm to the young gentleman’s bursts of energy, and the youngsters this morning looked to be at a low ebb.

  “One has heard from the dockside, nandiin,” Cenedi said, with a little tap at his ear and a glance toward Bren. “Nand’ Toby’s boat has suffered some hull damage. He and his companion are uninjured, but he and his companion are pumping some volume of water and continue to do so, while seeking a way to pull the boat up on skids. Local fishermen are assisting. Nand’ Toby has asked regarding your safety and the young gentleman’s, and has been reassured. Meanwhile Jago-nadi has been in contact with them by radio. They have indicated they came under attack, meeting hostile presence further down the peninsula, but that boat sank. The village has been alerted. So have other Guild.”

  Other Guild. That would be the aiji’s forces. And a boat sunk. He was appalled.

  “Did he say how it sank, nadi?” Bren asked.

  “Apparently there are submerged rocks. The other ship hit the rocks.”

  The old cottage industry of the area. The wreckers’ point. Fake lights, and natural currents that ran ships into trouble.” The Sisters.
A little off the point of the peninsula, on this side. They turned short.” His heart had picked up a beat. He wanted to go down the hill and help—but there was too much going on. He wanted even more to haul Toby and Barb up to the house for safety, but if Toby’s boat had taken a scrape from the Sisters, it was lucky to be afloat, and the fight to save it could be desperate.

  Most of all, he wanted to hear what had happened out there. Toby had charts. “Toby knows these waters, nadi. He would have known about the rocks.”

  “Evidently the other boat did not,” Cenedi said. “It pursued, firing. And ran aground. Nand’ Toby came on in, as soon as he had made emergency repairs.”

  God. What a mess! “One is grateful for the report,” he said. “My bodyguard is in debriefing and breakfast. One is sure you have heard from Nawari and Kasari, but mine will surely want to consult with you, Cenedi-ji, before all else.”

  “Indeed,” Cenedi said. “As I understand it, nand’ Geigi’s yacht was still at its mooring when Banichi turned the situation at the estate over to the aiji’s men . . . so we are relatively certain that Lord Geigi’s is not the boat at the bottom of the bay. We suspect the boat may have been acting in concert with the incursion here, and launched much earlier—perhaps up from Dalaigi. We are attempting to learn. We are attempting to find any survivors.”

  One got the picture: a two-pronged assault, one on the house, one to mop up if they had attempted to get out to sea. Toby had run right into the ambush.

  “It was more than luck,” the dowager said, beginning to take a sip of tea. She did, then asked: “Do you, nand’ paidhi . . . ?”

  But then she set the cup down. It missed the table edge, fell onto the carpet, a soft thump. “Cenedi,” the dowager said quietly.

  “The physician,” Cenedi said, dropping to one knee by Ilisidi’s chair. “Nand’ paidhi, may one beg you—”

  “I can find him,” Bren said, and sprang up and went to the door, hailing a passing servant. “Mata-ji! Run to my aishid’s suite and if the physician is still there, bring him here, immediately!” He went looking for other servants, and sent them below, to find Siegi wherever he was and advise him to hurry.

  But by the time he had gotten back to the dining room, Siegi was there, indeed, having come from down the hall. The physician was in the process of taking the dowager’s pulse—the cup, unbroken, had been set back on the table.

  Bren stopped at the door and bowed, standing there quietly.

  “Nand’ paidhi?” Ilisidi asked. “Come in. Come in.”

  He did so. “Aiji-ma.”

  “You were speaking of the Edi, paidhi. What did you intend to say?”

  “It can wait, aiji-ma. May one suggest, a little rest . . .”

  “Pish! What observation, paidhi-aiji?”

  Bren cast a desperate look at Cenedi, who gave him a distressed look back again, then bowed slightly. “One hopes,” Cenedi said, “that the paidhi having stated his opinion will lead to nand’ ’Sidi retiring for a few hours, since she did not sleep last night.”

  Thump! went the cane on the carpet. “One hopes this report will lead to truth, ’Nedi-ji! And do not carry on conversation above our head! Paidhi, report!”

  “One has had a thought, aiji-ma,” Bren said, “that Lord Geigi could get truth from the Edi staff, which the aiji’s men may not as easily come by. One proposes a phone call to the station, which I am prepared to make at a convenient hour. Geigi may well be abed.”

  “Geigi can drag his bones out of bed at whatever hour things are afoot,” Ilisidi said. Her color was not, one observed, good. But her eyes flashed. “So can we! High time we did rattle our old associate out of his complacency. He relied upon this worthless nephew, and we are entirely out of sorts with him!”

  Bren paid a second and apologetic glance toward Cenedi.

  “At least,” Cenedi said unhappily, “it does not entail a trip overland.”

  “One will make the call,” Bren said, “But—” He took such liberties with Tabini. He hesitated, with the dowager, but as the physician had stood up, he dropped to one knee by her chair, at intimate range. “Aiji-ma. A request. Once we speak to Geigi, you will retire for a few hours and get some rest. The dowager has been halfway across the continent and back, and camped out in a cold and unreasonably uncomfortable bus for hours and then suffered a ride which has all her young men and the paidhi nursing bruises. One by no means even mentions crashing through the garden shed. One begs the dowager, most earnestly, to take the opportunity to rest today while subordinates sort out the situation. We all may need the dowager’s very sage—”

  “Paidhi-ji, you risk annoying us!”

  “—advice, aiji-ma, and those of us who serve you would gladly risk your extreme displeasure to urge you to go to bed.”

  “I concur,” Cenedi muttered. “Listen to the paidhi. You take his advice at other times. Take it now.”

  A lengthy sigh, and a glittering sidelong pass of gold eyes beneath weary, slitted lids. “You are both a great annoyance.”

  “But I am right,” Bren said. “And the dowager, being wise, knows it. Be angry with me. But one begs you rest while doing it.”

  “Shameless,” Ilisidi muttered, and scowled at nothing in particular. “Well, well, let us call Geigi. And while we are about it, let us rouse out that scoundrel Baiji to the phone, and see what Geigi will say to his nephew. If that fails to enliven the hour, perhaps we shall go to bed for a few hours.”

  “Immediately, aiji-ma,” Bren said, and got up and headed out to his study, alone, scattering a trio of young male servants who had gathered in the main hall. “Bring Baiji to the study,” he said, “nadiin-ji, and you are instructed to use force should he object. Sit on him, should he attempt to escape.”

  “Nandi,” they said, astonished, and hurried off on their mission.

  He entered the study, sat down, and immediately took up the phone.

  Getting through to Mogari-nai offices took authorizations. Ramaso couldn’t do it without going through Shejidan; but he could. And when he had:

  “This is the paidhi-aiji. Put me through to the space station.”

  “Nandi,” the answer came, a little delayed. “Yes.”

  And a few moments after that:

  “This is Station Central. Mogari-nai, transmit your message.”

  “Live message, Station Central. Give me the atevi operator. This is Bren Cameron, key code under my file, BC27arq.”

  A pause.

  “Confirmed, sir.”

  The next voice spoke Ragi, and his request to that station roused out, if not Geigi himself, one of his personal guard, probably out of a sound sleep.

  “Is there an emergency?” the deep atevi voice asked in Mosphei’, and he answered in Ragi.

  “This is the paidhi-aiji. This call is with the concurrence and imminent presence of the aiji-dowager. With apologies for the hour, we request Lord Geigi’s immediate response. The matter is of dire importance.”

  “We shall hurry, nandi,” the answer came, just that, and the speaker left the phone.

  There was, now, a small stir at the door. It opened, and Bren punched the call onto speaker phone as the stir outside proved to be a scowling and unhappy Baiji, in the company of the three young servants.

  “Nandi, we have had no breakfast, we have been subjected to—”

  “Take a seat, nadi. That one will do.”

  “Nandi!” Baiji protested. “We are by no means your enemy! We protest this treatment!”

  “What you are, nadi, will be for others to judge,” Bren said, and noted a further presence in the hall, past the still-open door. “On the other hand, you may as well remain standing. The aiji-dowager is here.”

  “Aiji-ma!” Baiji turned in evident dismay, and bowed, however briefly, as Ilisidi, not relying on Cenedi’s arm, appeared at Cenedi’s side in the doorway, walked to the nearest hard chair and sat down unaided, leaning on her cane. Cenedi took his usual post behind her.

  “Aiji-ma, one
protests . . .”

  “Silence!” Bang! went the cane. “Fool.”

  “Aiji-ma!”

  “Nand’ Geigi is present,” a voice said on speaker, and a moment later: “Nand’ Bren. This is Geigi.”

  “One rejoices at the sound of your voice, nandi,” Bren said. “The aiji-dowager is here with me. One regrets, however, to inform you of a very unfortunate situation: my life was attempted under the portico of your house, which is now, intact, except the portico, in the hands of Guild in the aiji’s employ. Among other distressing matters, I saw none of the Edi that I knew when I was there. More, your nephew has had certain communications with the Marid—”

  “I am innocent!” Baiji cried. “I am unjustly accused!”

  “He is at my estate, under close guard, nandi, considering a negotiation regarding a Southern marriage, and the suspected importation of Guild of the Marid man’chi, and the ominous disappearance of staff loyal to you, nandi. One cannot adequately express the personal regret one feels at bearing such news.”

  “I rescued the aiji’s son at sea!” Baiji cried. “If I were of hostile mind, I would have delivered him to these alleged Southerners!”

  “One might point out,” Bren said, “that I personally, aboard my boat, followed your nephew’s indication to locate and pick up the heir, who was at no time actually in your nephew’s hands. What he would have done had he been the one to intercept the aiji’s son is a matter of dispute.”

  “Unfair!” Baiji protested. “Unfair, nandi!”

  Ilisidi signaled she wanted the handset. Immediately. He picked it up, passed it over, and it reverted to handset mode, silent to the rest of the room.

  “Nandi,” she said. “Geigi? Your nephew has become a scandal. Your estate reverts to your capable hands. Settle whom you wish in charge, except this young disgrace! The connivance of the Marid to take this coast has continued and your nephew continues to temporize with the South as he did during Murini’s tenure. There was excuse, while Murini sat in charge, but this flirtation has continued into inappropriate folly and a reluctance to go to court. One cannot imagine what this young fool hopes to gain, except to extend the Marid into northern waters and settle himself in luxury funded by my grandson’s enemies!”