Intruder (38 page)

“He requested to stay for the after-dinner sitting, aiji-ma. During that session he did state that you supported his great-grandmother.”

“Go on.”

“The statement was timely and appropriate in context, it was taken well by his great-uncle and by Lord Geigi, and it had a favorable impact on the discussion, aiji-ma. His tone was respectful.”

Tabini regarded him at length with those cold, pale eyes. “My son often takes a great deal on himself.”

Dismaying. “It had, at least, a moderating effect on his great-uncle, aiji-ma.”’

“He has, for his age, a precocious self-confidence. It used to impel him into the servant passages. Now it impels him into delicate negotiations.”

“Aiji-ma. One apologizes.”

“One is certain you have no need, paidi-ji. His great-grandmother allowed him into the room.”

“Yet, aiji-ma, after that statement, Lord Tatiseigi and Lord Geigi were able to resolve their disagreements. They both agree to support your grandmother’s proposal.”

“Do they?” Tabini said flatly. “And now Cenedi sends us this document. Do you know the content of it?”

One could not swear the bedroom was not bugged. “Aiji-ma. I received a copy of the agreement. One expects that to be there. One knows the Guild is concerned about these matters and active in the south. One rather suspects the message is the Guild’s, routed through Cenedi, but one only guesses as to that.”

“And the shape of this agreement of association? Is it still what we were presented?”

“To a cursory reading it has not changed, aiji-ma. Trade between the Taisigin Marid and the Eastern ports. A side agreement with the Edi and the Gan, who have agreed to stop certain activities if admitted to the aishidi’tat. The dowager has also, one understands, negotiated with her immediate neighbors and with town officials on the coast—”

“The disturbance now reaches to the East,” Tabini said. “A consortium of ten minor lords who, backing her trade agreement, are now signatory to a development on the East Coast
with
Guild participation. She was
very
busy at Baiji’s wedding.”

Bren drew in a slow, careful breath. There was still that envelope, unopened, on the table between them. And if Tabini’s agents had reported all the goings-on in the East—that still left the business with the Marid.

“I should perhaps take my leave at this point, aiji-ma.”

“Do not,” Tabini said sharply, and took up the envelope and opened it. Bren sat still, watching the pages in Tabini’s hands. The missive bore no visible crest. It had multiple pages, no surprise; it was fine printed, not handwritten, no surprise, either. Its size and nature were characteristic of messages that arrived in envelopes—reports, generally, not personal letters. This one was extensive, more than five pages.

Tabini finished it. Flipped back a page, reread, then threw the document onto the table and got up and walked across the little room to his Taibeni bodyguard, exchanged a look with his aishid-senior, and then looked across the room at Banichi and Jago.

Damn, Bren thought. Not good news. Not at all good news in that envelope.

It was a moment before Tabini returned to stand at the table. He gathered up the document, folded it, put it into its envelope, and slipped it into his own inner pocket. “Tea,” he said, and his senior bodyguard moved to the sideboard to make a new pot, no servants involved.

Whatever it was, one was obliged to wait for Tabini to speak. Tabini sat down and waited, and the senior bodyguard, Jaidiri, quietly poured the light tea.

They drank. They said absolutely nothing; and Bren’s brain raced with anxiety and spun on
no
information, while Tabini clearly had far too much information at the moment and was trying to sort it.

Tabini finished his tea with a last, large swallow and set his cup aside. Bren didn’t try to empty his cup, just set it down.

Tabini said, quietly, “My grandmother has gone to war with the Ajuri. Figuratively.”

Lady Damiri’s father. Dursai Province.

He had absolutely no business commenting on a family matter. He had no nerves to warn him of the flow of man’chi or the lack of it. But Tabini looked at him, awaiting a reply.

“One hardly knows what to say, aiji-ma.”

“This, for once, is not regarding my son’s actions. Cenedi went to the East with my grandmother. One of his staff did not. You and your bodyguard, paidhi, are about to hear things which must
not
come to my son.”

“Aiji-ma. One will respect the sensitivity of it. So will my bodyguard.”

“I am sure your bodyguard, and Cenedi, will do whatever their man’chi compels them to do. And your bodyguard and mine need to know. There is an old rivalry regarding my son.”

“One understands.”

Tabini drew a deep breath. “You should understand more. Ajuri and the Atageini were allies—a hundred years ago, going up to my father’s time. That association ended finally when Tatiseigi, as clan head, did not at first approve the contract marriage
that united his niece with Ajuri clan. That, however, is an old issue, and over time, Lord Tatiseigi warmed to their child Damiri as his grandniece. When we married her, of course, his opinion changed vastly, and she became his favorite niece. So for a time after our marriage, Ajuri and the Atageini were quite—socially close. But this harmony was doomed. The old reasons which had held the clans together had changed over time. When our son was born, it became a war for his upbringing, Atageini on one side, Ajuri on the other. And in the intensity of it all, Damiri had a falling-out with her father. She was then for a time in great favor with Lord Tatiseigi, a period which falls within your tenure.”

“One recalls the situation, yes, aiji-ma.”

“Then—we began the space program. We had its controversy. The entire aishidi’tat entered a period of upheaval that made it increasingly dangerous to have my son in close company with us at public functions. My grandmother’s conservatism is unquestioned. Tatiseigi’s is. Placing my son in her care quieted the conservatives, pleased Tatiseigi, and gave us time we greatly needed to politick our way through the unrest. That maneuver is also within your memory.”

“It is, aiji-ma.”

“Sending Cajeiri to the Atageini, however, infuriated the Ajuri. You may imagine. So. Let us leap to last night. In a very quick turn, the Atageini lord has suddenly agreed with you and made his peace with my grandmother’s move to settle the Marid. Why would he do that? Several reasons occur to me—not all of them the gracious presence of my grandmother or his fondness for your gift. First, my son has made childish but astonishingly firm regional alliances which, to a wise man like Tatiseigi, may suggest a different constellation of regional power in the future than has ever existed, one in which he can be of great influence. Second, the Ajuri have bent every effort toward reconciliation with Damiri and have insisted on providing staff. Her cousins and aunts have made much over the birth to
come. So has her father—who has newly acceded to the lordship and now steers things.”

“Aiji-ma.”

“Note, paidhi-ji, that Ajuri
and
the Atageini survived the Troubles, intact. The Atageini survived because Lord Tatiseigi is politically important, as head of the conservatives—and because his house is such a sieve for secrets no one ever took him seriously as a threat to Murini. Assassinating Tatiseigi would have roused a stir in Murini’s own conservative backing, which he did not want—at that time.

“Ajuri clan, however, had a far more potent protective asset: a position of leverage within the Guild administration. And now we enter a different, difficult territory, paidhi, and certain conversations within the secrecy of the Guild have now met up with certain documents confiscated in the Marid action—to my personal distress.

“After the coup, certain houses took in fugitive servants from households in distress. These servants necessarily brought all sorts of information on various fallen powers—and the Ajuri acquired your old servants Moni and Taigi.”

Bren blinked, jolted down a new track of causality. Moni and Taigi, who had tried to get back into his service—and been stopped at the door by his aishid. “Aiji-ma.”

“They served in Ajuri for a time. Then they went back to you and applied for reinstatement. Your aishid wisely had them arrested. They claim utter innocence of motive. But their behavior makes them highly suspect. They have not gone back to Ajuri. They are doing small jobs in a suburb of the city, working for a restaurant.”

“One had not heard it, aiji-ma.”

“Do not attempt to assist them. I know your soft heart. They are very possibly
still
supplying information to the renegades.”

“To the Shadow Guild, aiji-ma!”

“I have told you that Damiri-daja and I have had our difficulties. And what has come to light now—does not favor her relatives.” Tabini
tapped his chest, where he had the new document. The letter. “Ajuri is possibly involved with the shadow Guild.”

“Aiji-ma.” He was beyond appalled. Alarmed.

“We have given many clans and individuals ample understanding for things they may have done to save their lives and property during Murini’s administration. Had all our people died for us—we could never have returned. That Ajuri has connections within the Assassins’ Guild forged during Murini’s administration—this, we have never taken amiss. But the lords of Ajuri, the prior one
and
the current one, were not just surviving. They profited. One has always asked—Why did the attack so efficiently take out my staff? My aishid. Everyone I relied on. And yet missed me.”

It had been a massacre in this very apartment. And to kill a whole household staff, including servants—had been one brutal act among many…one terrible deed buried among the rest. The staff, even retired Guild, should have been off-limits once it was clear that Tabini was not present.

The Guild had struck at Tabini here, and simultaneously struck where he really was, at Taiben—proving they indeed knew where he was and was not.

They
knew.
That came sharply into focus, not for the first time.

And Tabini suffered, in that memory. He said nothing for a long time, and there was neither movement nor sound in the room.

At length Tabini said: “I cannot forgive my wife if she knew. But I do not think she did.”

“What is one to understand, aiji-ma?”

“Tatiseigi,” Tabini said, “survived because his influence among the conservatives was valuable. And Ajuri survived its relationship to us because it had influence within the Guild at highest levels. But now one wonders if it was not at higher levels than we estimated.”

To this hour Algini professed disturbance about the goings-on in the Guild.

To this hour, the Guild refused to give Tabini’s Taibeni bodyguard the highest-level information. Here
he
was, delivering a letter, in secret, that had come through Algini and Cenedi.

“What is one to understand, aiji-ma? Damiri-daja was also a target of assassination—was she not?”

“And they were not quite in charge of the Guild at that point. No. One does not believe they were behind the assassination attempt. But they did not diminish in influence during the Troubles. They grew in power, and their enemies met with misfortune. Tatiseigi, who would have been their target, was defended by a small body of loyal Guild, a wider band than he knew. And defended by
me
.”

One had no idea. It was possible that Tatiseigi had no inkling what had gone on, to this hour. But Tabini had indeed shown up quite rapidly when, returning from space, their little party had reached Tatiseigi’s doorstep.

“Ajuri is a small clan in territory, small in numbers, lacking subclans—lacking geographical position to make alliances as an equal among great clans. Tatiseigi was once their very best connection. But within the Guilds, especially within a Guild as powerful as the Assassins, a clever few can make their clan important. To this hour, they still hold that importance.”

To this hour.
God. What was
in
that letter?

Tabini said, “And, this, paidhi-ji: Within the Guild,
Ajuri clan Guild
were in charge of records we now know were gotten out of Guild headquarters and that turned up again in records we found in the Marid. There is clear proof of custody. A pair of time stamps. And two signatures. These were not stolen—they were released; and we have them. We traced them to a very high-ranking pair of that clan within the Guild—who are, last night,
deceased.
”

War, Tabini had said. War on Ajuri Clan.

But that his
grandmother
had declared it. Had it been Cenedi who had moved?

Cenedi had been in attendance on the dinner and the after-dinner sitting.

Nawari hadn’t.

Banichi and Jago had been in attendance.

He had suppose
d
Tano and Algini were, as usual, in the hall outside the sitting room. It took—maybe an hour to get to Guild Headquarters, an hour back. All the principals of the anti-Ajuri position had been sitting in that room—even including Cajeiri—safe, under the tightest and most alert guard in the Bujavid. Sipping brandy. Having fruit punch.

His mind raced.

“One imagines Ajuri clan has by this morning been informed of their loss,” Tabini was saying. “And I shall have to break that news to Damiri before it comes to her by any other source. They are remote cousins.”

Bren said quietly, “One regrets, aiji-ma.” But he was thinking:
God, what is her position with Ajuri?

“I sent my son to a dinner last night welcoming his great-grandmother, fully knowing what his presence with her would signal. And Damiri and I have had a disagreement on the matter, and as of last night, she is not speaking to me. One hardly knows what she thinks this morning.”

There was no expression of regret possible. Bren only bit his lip.

“A ridiculous domestic situation,” Tabini said, “if it were any other household. But she is attempting to refrain from words that would, perhaps, be irrevocable, in her view. She is also well aware she is not at her most rational. She is about to give birth, and, one believes, she is quite emotionally determined that my grandmother not lay hands on this one—so it does limit her options. This determination to exert control is being fed by her father. She gave up Cajeiri to keep him safe, and she got back a child who—well, is very much his great-grandmother’s. As
I am, despite my best efforts. That—has been a source of argument.