Cenedi climbed back down, and the rest of the dowager’s men and Cajeiri’s young contingent climbed up. They settled in, most of the company sitting on the truck bed, the engine started up, and they moved fairly sedately around the arc of the cobbled drive and onto the unpaved country road.
It didn’t stay a sedate pace. Security concerns, Bren was certain, had them picking up speed. But the road, though winding a bit downhill and alongside a small and ominous woods, was well-maintained, and lacking potholes . . . that, or Nawari was to credit for missing them.
It was with a sigh of relief that they entered the central (and only major) street of Najida village. Twilight showed very few lights at all, the habit of mainland country folk: nobody burned lights to keep away crime, since there was none to speak of . . . just the occasional rowdy youngster. There were no police, just the local constable, who was in charge of talking people out of quarrels, and officiating at the occasional marriage, supervising the village clerk, and the village—Mosphei’ had no exact word for it except commissioner, but there was no commission, just a woman and three aides who scheduled the bus and the truck, and oversaw the procurement of some supplies held in common, such as the village nurse’s needs, the grading equipment, the school, and public sewers and sanitation.
And all such persons had their offices in the village hall, along with the unelected but empowered council of elders, the heads of families, who met when they decided to meet, and once a month met to review the doings of the regular officials.
. . . or in this case, to receive the Lord of Najida and his guests the aiji-dowager and the heir of the aishidi’tat, to which they belonged mostly in name. The doings of the aishidi’tat rarely touched the doings of the village, or rarely did so in any official way; and no member of the aiji’s household, including the paidhi-aiji, had ever darkened the door of the village hall, not in all the time it had stood.
They were here to change that.
People of the village—mostly women, young folk and children—were standing about the entry, and came to watch as they disembarked, an immediate flood of Guild in black leather uniforms, and then, with great solicitude, the dowager, who did not take kindly to being lifted down from the truck bed in the arms of her young men, and wanted to climb down, but that itself was an undignified process, and a very chancy little thin-runged ladder, so down she came, and set her feet on the ground immediately with a solid whack of her cane.
Cajeiri scrambled down on his own, steadied at the last by Jegari and Antaro, his new guards standing by in commendable deference.
And Bren climbed down and met up with Jago at the bottom, Banichi appearing almost immediately and making shift to get them all inside and under at least the cover of a roof.
So in they came, in a surrounding flood of black uniforms and with a distressing lot of firepower, but there was reason for it, and he by no means protested Guild precautions. They walked down a broad hallway, wooden-floored, and into open double doors at the end, where the village dignitaries waited somewhat informally, standing among their orderly tables.
There were bows, not as deep as country folk might ordinarily make in meeting the aiji-dowager or even the paidhi-aiji, but it was not a discourtesy, rather the situation, that they were in the place of their own authority.
“Nand’ dowager.” The speaker was an old woman, a seam-faced and weathered woman wearing her go-tomeeting best, a black shawl with years of service, but it was an excellent garment, no matter the era, beautifully embroidered with vines. A deep bow, then. “Nand’ paidhi. I am Aieso, eldest of Najida village.”
“We have come to listen, Aieso-daja. In all courtesy, I shall speak briefly. But in the main, considering the situation, we believe we should be advised before giving advice. We have come to ask.”
The old woman nodded, bowed again, all around, including to Cajeiri, then walked to the head table and rapped on the wood with her gnarled knuckles.
A silence gradually fell. People sought chairs, and two young men came offering chairs at the head table to the dowager, Cajeiri, and him.
They took those places. It was no polished historic conference table, but it had its own history, evident in the scratches and digs and occasional wounds in the rough-finished surface. The chairs likewise were agesmoothed, neither stained nor polished.
“Nand’ Bren says he and the dowager and the young gentleman have come to listen tonight,” Aieso said. “But he has a few words of his own, nadiin. Listen to him.”
A little final settling, a last couple of people in place. Guild stood about the walls, bristling with weapons. But the assembly they watched were all old men and women, the business owners and tradesmen of the town, people of local substance and excellent reputation—well, as much as went with long politics in a village.
Bren rose in place and looked over the assembly—no brilliant electrics here, just oil lamps that gave a gentle glow to the place, and not that electricity was not available in the village. It just was not here, in this place of local tradition.
“Esteemed neighbors,” he said, with a little bow, “what I have to say is brief, counting that I know less than I should. First, thank you, and the dowager and the young gentleman thank you most earnestly, for the efforts of our neighbors in rescuing the young gentleman from the coast. Had you not helped us, we might have been far slower to take the search out to sea, and the event might have had a very bad outcome. Please make known any damages incurred during the search, and I will gladly bear any expense for repairs. Thank you, personally, for your hospitality toward my brother’s lady, and most of all for your understanding. Thank you for your support during the difficulties at Lord Geigi’s estate, and the attack on my house. The aiji-dowager has spoken to Lord Geigi directly, advising him of the situation, and Lord Geigi has agreed to return very shortly and take possession of his nephew and of the estate, to attempt to set matters right.”
That created a little buzz in the room, words exchanged sotto voce and behind hands, but it seemed to be welcome news.
“Among matters of utmost concern in my own mind,” Bren said, “is the fact that when the young gentleman and I visited that house, we saw no familiar faces, none of the people we would have expected to be there. We are greatly concerned for the welfare of that staff.”
A sudden thump of Ilisidi’s cane. “The nephew neglected business in Shejidan. Evidently he had a situation he wished not to report, and the aishidi’tat has been remiss not to inquire more closely regarding this sudden change in attitude and relations. The aishidi’tat took for granted the favorable association which has long existed in this region and took an attitude of patience with this young nephew. This was a mistake. We hope it has not cost lives, nor will cost them, but we fear to the contrary. The aishidi’tat has no wish for a continuing Guild presence in this region, and forces will withdraw as soon as we are sure Southern influence does not threaten the peace of this district.”
With which, and a second thump of the cane, Ilisidi fell back into silence, leaving a ripple of whispering and disturbance in her wake . . . again, not hostility, but hard to read what precisely it was—except honest fishermen and craftsmen trying to read all the way to the bottom of a remark by a master of Shejidan politics. Aieso, her gnarled hands laced before her lips, sat in silence, her eyes, gold dark nearly to bronze, taking in every movement.
“Neighbors,” Bren said, with a nod to that lady, “people who have a birthright on this coast should be reassured. The Southern influence which moved into Kajiminda has been dislodged, permanently, and there will be no threat to the region from that quarter. One wishes one could claim that one’s own cleverness detected this intrusion and laid all this plan to deal with it, but, baji-naji, there has been more chance on our side and more plan on the Southern side. They thought they had caught me without allies. They were mistaken. I thank the dowager, I thank the aiji, and the brave folk of Najida that we have overturned that scheme . . .” That drew pleased looks. “But we remain concerned
for the fate of people harmed by these goings-on. If there is any help the estate can give, we would be very glad to provide it.”
A single young man stood up, a thin, shabby-looking young man in the far corner of the room; and every Guildsman around the periphery went on alert. “Nand’ paidhi.”
“Nadi?”
A bow. “My name is Teigi. I came here as the son of Paigi. This was a lie. I am Edi, from Kajiminda—a youngest, and expendable.”
His security would not be happy with this deception. But none of them were surprised by it. He simply bowed in acknowledgement.
“One rejoices to hear from Kajiminda, Teigi-nadi. Say on.”
“This is what the Edi say. Throw the Southerners out or let us do it. Let us have our lordships and our law and our land back. I am the youngest. If you arrest me, you have no one.”
“There is no question of arresting the spokesman for the Edi,” Bren said, and in the tail of his eye, saw the dowager rising to her feet, when she was, being who she was, perfectly entitled to sit to address anyone in the aishidi’tat. It was a courtesy, and it was hard for her.
She stood upright, however, and planted the cane firmly.
“We are an Easterner,” she said in that incisive, absolute voice, “and we comprehend the position of the Edi people. We of the East have Malguri and those in its man’chi. Where is the house of the Edi lord? There should be a house of the Edi, and one of the Gan.” Those were the other aboriginal people, the latter, like the Edi, dispossessed from Mospheira. “We think so. We have not expressed this thought to our grandson. But it is our opinion.”
My God, Bren thought. She was proposing two new provinces.
The young man stood there, just stood for a moment.
“We would not expect,” Ilisidi said, “that representatives of the Edi and of the Gan would bring such proposals to the aiji in Shejidan.”
The proposal of an Edi and a Gan estate had thorns all over it. The Edi and the Gan had never officially joined the aishidi’tat, because the Edi and the Gan were both inside other provinces.
“You have suffered,” Ilisidi said, “as have other peoples of this coast, from the chaff of the quarrel between the South and the Ragi of the central districts. This is a case that should be made. The aishidi’tat is not weaker because it contains the intact East. The aishidi’tat would be stronger if it contained an intact West. Right now you are the majority on this coast. And you have no lordship. Take my encouragement to pursue it, and set up your own defenses.”
The young man still stood. The dowager sat down again, and Bren drew a breath, finding the silence beginning to fray into a mutter.
“The dowager’s opinion,” he said, “will carry weight. You have a potential ally.”
The young man finally came alive to give a sketchy bow. “One is by no means instructed on a reply, nandiin. One will carry the message.”
Cajeiri stood up. Bren took in a breath, starting to signal the boy to the contrary, but Cajeiri was unstoppable in the best of circumstances.
“Listen to my great-grandmother, nadi,” Cajeiri’s young voice rang out. And, God, he could not have done better, with the matrilineal Edi, if he had targeted it. “My father does.”
There was a stir in the room. Everybody reacted.
And Cajeiri promptly sat down, leaving Bren alone to deal with the assembly.
“The young gentleman has many virtues,” Bren said, “including forthrightness. He says what he thinks, and what he thinks will one day be the policy of the aishidi’tat.”
There was a pause, a murmur, and then the stamp of a foot. Which became many feet, until the room thundered.
Bren bowed, and sat down, as the young Edi sat down, and all around the room security stood just a little easier.
It wasn’t going to be the safe direction. It was going to kick up one hell of a storm in Shejidan. But the coast had the backing of the East, and it was a natural ally against the South, a back and forth piratical war that had gone on for centuries.
Policy had just shifted. The thing once named had the power to exist, and once it existed, it would change the aishidi’tat.
Policy had just shifted and the wind had begun to blow, a sea wind, into the heart of the continent. The dowager, who had once bid to become aiji herself, had just tilted policy and directed the future course of politics.
And the paidhi hadn’t the least clue how he was going to explain it to Tabini.
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An Excerpt from Bren Cameron’s notes
The House of the Maschi
The Maschi clan has declined over centuries to a handful of the name, resident within the Sulesi clan, the inland limit of Sarini Province.
Within the Maschi clan:
The Marid, subdivided into the Tasaigin Marid, the Senji Marid, and the Dojisigi and Dausigi Marid—the four major districts that, with their clans and septs, rule the South. There are also the Sungeni, the local islands, ruled by the Tasaigi.
The Tasaigin Marid has been the most persistent problem to Tabini, but the other three districts, jealous of the power of the Tasaigi, have been laying their own plots.
One of the first indicators of trouble to come was the stir the Marid tried to make over the space program.
They attempted to ruin Lord Geigi, who was a major supporter, and who had an aerospace plant in his district. They had subverted his Samiusi clan wife—who then fled to the Marid, married again, and had three children with Coidinje of the Tasaigi.
Badissuni was a previous problem to Tabini-aiji . . . he appeared in the early accounts of Marid troubles: he was very much against the space program, mostly because it gave him an issue to use against Tabini. He came to consult with Tabini after the assassination of Lord Sagaimi of the Tasaigi, on a notable occasion of a visit from Lord Tatiseigi to the Bujavid, and that didn’t go well.
Here’s how the Sagaimi of the Tasaigin Marid’s descent runs:
Ardami ruled the Tasaigi after the death of Sagaimi, Sarini, and then Cosadi. His marriage to Mada of the Farai has produced a union between the Senji Marid and the Tasaigin Marid, and he has produced Tula, a daughter, and Machigi. Ardami was assassinated, and Machigi is now aiji of the Tasaigin Marid.
This Machigi, a son, is trouble . . . first as a threat to the independence of the Senjin Marid.
The Senjin Marid is the one that has been courting Baiji . . . through Baiji’s ex-aunt, and his cousins, because they have old relations with the Samiusi, part of Sarini province, which is not part of the Marid, but part of Geigi’s association. They have been helped in this by Badissuni’s clan, the Dojisigi.
If the Senjin Marid, through marriage and assassination, could get control of the west coast, Najida and Kajiminda, they would challenge the powerful Machigi of the Tasaigin Marid for control of southern politics. But they are very likely being egged on and encouraged by Machigi himself, who sees advantage in their actions. Machigi is very likely to double-cross them the moment they gain any territory.
And meanwhile the Dojisigin Marid, home of the daughter being offered by the Senjin, is looking for any advantage and feeling itself threatened by the rise of this powerful Tasaigin aiji.
There are two other Marid districts of much less power: the Sungeni Marid (the islands) and the Dausigin Marid, the lower east side of the Marid, which has never been strong enough to contend with the others.
Within the Tasaigin Marid, there is one powerful district: Sarini’s district of Tanji.
Within the Dojisigin Marid, there is Badissuni’s Amarja.
Within the Senjin Marid, there is Morigi-dar, stronghold of the Farai.
The Dojisigin Marid is sparsely populated, and usually bows to the Dojisigi or the Tasaigi, whichever they fear most at the time.
The Marid as a whole was all once a separate nation from the aishidi’tat, but a succession of skirmishes and assassinations brought it into the fold in Valasi-aiji’s time. Tabini has inherited the situation, an
d has had several times to bring the Marid back into line. But it remains a district in constant turmoil.
History of the Marid
The Marid used to claim the whole west coast of the continent, from the peninsula of Dalaigi down to their modern territory in the central South.
But after the War of the Landing, the north coast territory was given to the displaced Gan, the southwestern coast to the Edi, and the Samiusi and Maschi clans were set in authority over the district, definitively freed of the domination of the Marid.
The Edi, seafarers and fishermen, took up their occupation out of the several bays of the continental west and began to shove the Marid ships out of their area—piracy was what the Marid called it. Certain districts, notably Najida, profited by luring passing Marid ships onto the rocks and looting them.
The Gan, northerly, were more strictly fisherfolk, and mostly peaceful.
The Edi, consisting of several subgroups, mostly fought among themselves, when they were not fighting the Marid, until they agreed to accept a Maschi lord, the father of Lord Geigi of the Maschi, seated at Kajiminda.
Among the clans of the Marid, the loss of the west coast in the Resettlement after the War of the Landing was a serious blow. The Marid still has exclusive rights in the whole southern fishing grounds, but it regards the loss of the west coast, though they had few settlements there, as an ongoing wound to their pride . . . and Edi raids on their shipping and commerce as a grievous wrong.
Affiliations of critical groups
Major Clans that are Ragi or affiliated with the Ragi Taiben (Tabini’s clan: Padi Valley district: historic enemies of the Atageini)
Atageini (Tatiseigi’s clan: Padi Valley district: lady Damiri’s maternal clan)
Malguri (Ilisidi’s clan: Eastern, far side of the continent)
Dur (the north coast Islands)
Ajuri (lady Damiri’s paternal clan, northern)