Destroyer (42 page)

Over near the door Algini, clearly bored, stripped and oiled his gun, waiting. Bren smelled the oil. He didn’t need to look. He smelled the thousand scents that wafted through the open window. Curious, how many, many different scents a planet had, each freighted with significance.

Hadn’t taken him long at all to acclimate to negatively-curved horizons. He wondered if Jase would get queasy again, after being back in his element so long.

Deep sigh. A state near sleep, hindbrain running autopilot. The teacup was still safe in his hands. He probably should ask Algini to do the same maintenance for his gun, which, with Shawn’s computer attachment, was tucked into his gear.

Steps outside, ordinarily beneath his hearing, audible in the general hush. Algini got up.

Heavy steps. Several. Algini opened the door. Banichi and Jago were back.

“Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and came and sat down in the opposite chair, Jago standing behind him. Banichi set arms on his knees and leaned very close. “Tano has been out by the stables. He reports there have been numerous mecheiti here before the rain, for what that may mean, and now there are only five, besides ours. Cenedi is aware. Possibly it is as mundane as the movement of an Atageini herd to the hills, after use in the hunt. On the other hand, there might have been visitors here in the last few days that the lord has simply not mentioned.”

Tatiseigi, the old fox, had made a career of holding everyone’s secrets, and moving very suddenly in the direction that gained him most. A patrol sent out, and never mentioned? Visitors, from one faction or the other, a diplomatic mission from the Kadigidi?

And not a word yet about his carefully crafted letter to the Guild. His brain threatened to enter fog-state again, having ten new things to process, none of them pleasant.

“Dare we speak, nadiin-ji?”

Banichi moved his eyes to the left, a slight warning. Bren bit his lip, increasingly uneasy in this luxurious, secretive house, and needing, dammit, more information.

“Lord Tatiseigi has read your letter, nandi, and is considering the matter.”

So Ilisidi had sent it on, implying she thought it should be sent. Tatiseigi was considering. And Algini indicated they were fast running out of time.

Things absolutely had to be said. “Come,” he said to them, and went to the writing desk.

He enlivened the computer screen. Wrote:

Leaning over his shoulder, they read it, absorbed that with a little gratifying expression of surprise and a glance exchanged between them.

He wrote further:
Algini says that the Kadigidi may make a move tonight. What Tano found at the stables may mean there has been diplomatic traffic from the Kadigidi—or from Tabini-aiji—or simply that there are more Atageini patrols out that his staff has never mentioned. One hopes for either of the last two.

Banichi signaled that he would answer. He dropped to one knee, took the computer, balancing it while he entered, hunt and peck with his much larger hand, and a telegraphic brevity:

My God, he thought, and reached for the computer.

Banichi took the computer.
We are not confident in Cenedi’s plan. Cenedi may not survive a mission against the Kadigidi, with or without our assistance, and he will rely only on us, not on the Atageini staff. He strongly believes there are spies in the house. He mentions the primitive nature of much of the monitoring equipment and communication here, which will be penetrated by the Kadigidi in any determined attack, and may give them access to our transmissions. Tano and Algini might go with him, and their help would at least raise the odds of his success, but Murini is much more likely resident in Shejidan, which means a very difficult operation, whether to draw him out to his province, or go after him in the capital. Your staff is not willing to throw all resources into this mission. If Cenedi should fail and we were all with him, no one but Tatiseigi’s staff would protect you, Cajeiri, the dowager, and the resistance to Murini. This is not acceptable, and we will not take that course. We do not support Cenedi’s proposal.

He seized the computer, then hardly knew what to say.
It is absolutely not useful that the Guild see the heir as under my influence. I am the worst possible guardian for him. This is not feasible, nadiin-ji.

Jago reached for the machine. Typed:
If you are correct that the aiji is at the observatory, putting Cajeiri into his father’s hands would be one answer to criticism.

He wrote, in his turn, rapid fire:
I am by no means certain the aiji is there, nor do I have great hopes of reaching him with the boy in tow. And if I deliver him to his father—forgive me, nadiin-ji, but right now the dowager can attract the more conservative elements of the
aishidi’tat
, but Tabini-aiji is at disadvantage in that regard, and to have me and the boy join him does not answer the criticism of human influence in the situation. Does this house staff believe it can withstand an incursion tonight, granted Tatiseigi is being forthright with the dowager about his man’chi?

Banichi shrugged. “Baji-naji, Bren-ji.”

Dice-throw, that was to say. In Cenedi’s best plan, they were down to attempting to assassinate Murini, an aiji with a following, and all-out clan warfare, regional warfare, was likely as a consequence. This was where the Assassins’ Guild in Shejidan was supposed to step in, to declare which claimant to supreme power it supported. It should eliminate the loser and restore peace and balance.

But Cenedi would have the fat in the fire before the Guild could get into action, if Cenedi proceeded against Murini’s clan, Tatiseigi’s neighbors.

Unless his letter to the Guild could persuade Tatiseigi there was substance enough to throw his prestige behind it and affix his seal as a lord in support of his appeal, it would never reach the Guild at all.

Phoning that appeal in—was possible, if they could hijack a line; but a phone message was only informative. Legally, paper needed to be there, with house seals: the Guild operated by rules, with paper, with seals, with incontrovertible Filed evidence. A phone call had no legal standing.

But even if the physical letter did get there under seal, past all obstacles including Tatiseigi and Kadigidi interception, it was unlikely to produce immediate action. Unless the Guild had been waiting for some excuse to support Tabini, and fell upon his letter of appeal to the Guild as exactly the small legality they needed to have on record, they would not move fast enough.

Stalemate in the Guild. At best outcome, he was going to get a summons to a Guild hearing that would produce his safe conduct in a few days, but that did nothing to defend them tonight. Their immediate defense was in their own hands. The dowager’s young men, though decorative, were certainly not ornament. Neither, above all else, was Cenedi—who, yes, stood a marginal chance of doing exactly what he proposed: he was that good.

But the moment he left, then what did they get? Tatiseigi with the dowager under his roof and Cenedi off in Kadigidi territory? The heir here with her, in Tatiseigi’s hands?

It was a line of thought that he really, truly didn’t like.

He wrote:
The moment Cenedi separates himself from the dowager, we would have far less means under this roof to resist whatever Tatiseigi might decide to do.

Banichi replied:
Tatiseigi is ambitious. This has never changed. One doubts he would harm the dowager, but he would seize the upper hand if he could get it. Moving the heir out of his reach would mean the boy would not return to Tatiseigi unless the dowager sent for him.

His turn.
Has she agreed with Cenedi? Has she asked this of us?

Banichi nodded.

He wrote:
And it has to be done now, if it is to be done.

Another nod.

He wrote:
If my letter is to go out, it must go within the hour, it seems, or risk falling afoul of her plans. Is there no way to persuade the lord and the dowager to work together?

Banichi and Jago exchanged a look, and then Jago took the computer.

He wrote:
Can I persuade her?

Banichi took the computer back this time, and thought a moment.
Find her another course.

Twice damn. As easy to move a river in spate than divert the dowager from her intentions, especially when she failed to trust her former lover and Cenedi’s was the only advice.

And they all sat and acted under a roof where they could not talk freely, not only for fear of Tatiseigi overhearing, but for fear of Kadigidi spies.

He took the computer back. “I shall write another letter, nadiin-ji. This one to her. Thank you.”

They understood. They left him to it, for what little time they might have. And he sat in front of the computer and buried his face in his hands, shutting out the light, trying to think.

Then he wrote:

He wrote it out by hand, set his seal on it, and went and gave it to Banichi. “She will reply,” he said, and settled down to an intolerable wait, staring out the window, with nothing to think about but disasters, and routes, and defenses.

It took much longer than he hoped. Perhaps Ilisidi had taken offense at his advice. Perhaps she and Banichi and Cenedi were down the hall having a bitter argument, which might bar Banichi from further consultations.

Worst thought—Tatiseigi might have gotten curious, or tried to intercept his message or her reply.

Sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Steps approached the door. Banichi came in and brought him a sealed message.

“Stay,” Bren said. “Nadiin-ji, all of you.”

Everyone took chairs near him as he pried loose the wax seal and unrolled the tight curl of the message.

Taiben. For God’s sake, it was not the point of his letter. It was a side argument.

He felt a little light-headed as he passed the note to Banichi, who read it impassively, and then with a little lift of the brows Banichi passed it to Jago. It went from her to Algini, and to Tano, and Tano read it and proffered it back.