Текст книги "Intruder"

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“How interesting,” Ilisidi said in a silence in which one could hear a pin drop—and with Machigi and his bodyguard likewise afforded a clear view across the hall. Three times her jeweled hand opened wide and closed on the knob of the cane. “Lord Komaji—I do not call you Lord Ajuri, not to involve your unfortunate relatives in this unfortunate moment. Your frustration is truly pitiful, but we cannot mend your failures.”

“Failures! Where are your successes,lady? In this agreement with the enemy? In the corruption of the aishidi’tat? In the stealing and corruption of a child?”

Bang!went the cane, so loud in the hall people jumped, yet Ilisidi seemed hardly to have moved.

“Failures, Lord Komaji, failuresto support your own daughter and her husband in the aftermath of the coup. Failure to rally to the aiji’s side until my grandson and your daughter had gained Lord Tatiseigi and Lord Dur and Taiben as allies and were winning! Failure to protect your grandson or his mother until the shooting stopped!”

“You confuse me with my predecessor!”

“Oh? Were you not related to my great-grandson before you took over the clan? Were you held prisoner? Could you not have mustered at least yourself and your bodyguard, when a handful might have made a difference—and did? Do not lecture us about forwardness in defense of the aishidi’tat, Komaji-nandi!”

“You endangered my grandson in the midst of conflict, you subjected him to human influence and have set his unskilled hand on agreements with an uncivilized rabble of smugglers, wreckers, and pirates!”

“The ancient peoples of Mospheira, nandi, who diddefend your grandson! Where were you?You do have a history of showing up at the tail end of any fight, claiming a right to decide the outcome, when you have done nothingto win the war. Here we have won a peace—and a regional agreement; and here you are again, at the last moment, unwelcome in manner, irrelevant in opinion, and useless to the outcome. Good night, Lord Komaji, and do not hesitate to give my regards to my grandson, once you are readmitted to his premises.”

“You are a disgrace!” Komaji shouted.

“Oh, that will quite be enough,” Ilisidi said with a wave of her hand, and Cenedi stepped to the fore.

“Banichi,” Bren said, and very quickly there were Cenedi and Nawari, Banichi and Jago, Geigi’s Haiji, Lord Tatiseigi’s man Rusani and Lord Dur’s Jusari, all moving to separate Komaji and his guard from the dowager.

Komaji drew in a breath, spun on his heel, and stalked out with his bodyguard, headed God knew where.

The company present watched that retreat with a low murmur of dismay and astonishment, picked up by the onlookers in the hall, but they had no leeway for speculation. A second, quieter bang of the cane, and Ilisidi gathered her bodyguard and walked, easily and cheerfully, toward Lord Machigi, red-sparkling black headed for a handsome young man in green and blue, in the witness of all.

Bren hesitated to move. Hesitated to breathe—except it dawned on him he was in charge of the hall, and he needed to be with the dowager. He went, with his bodyguard as smartly organized as the dowager’s, and he took his station by the tables.

“Lord Machigi,” Ilisidi said, and the meeting of the two of them—the perfectly correctly little bow from Machigi, the correctly timed and gracious nod from the dowager—drew its own little stir, a whisper of people beyond the front row of spectators all trying to see past the bodyguards of those in front, and the news camera crew trying not to be outmaneuvered and to signal those crossing in front not to obstruct the view.

“One hopes,” Ilisidi said, “that you had a very smooth trip, nandi.”

“Indeed, nand’ dowager.” The absolutely correct address, not the emotionally driven aiji-ma, but correct, in protocol. “Thank you for the sentiment.”

“You are most welcome, Lord Machigi. Having dealt at distance and through agencies, we are very pleased to meet our future partner in trade.”

“Mutual, nand’ dowager.”

“One trusts you have had a copy of the agreements.”

“Indeed, nand’ dowager.”

“And are we agreed to sign, nandi?”

“We are agreed, nand’ dowager.”

“Then let us proceed to a plain reading of the document, shall we?” Ilisidi gave a wave of her hand, and a quiet thump of the cane shocked the anxious hall to silence. “We shall read the document’s salient points, for the assembly, if you please, chief clerk.”

The chief clerk, clad in clothes of two centuries ago, fussed for a moment with his more modern glasses, then read out, in clear, classic form, the headings and summary of the document. The single allowed news feed took that in—one could only reflect that they had had an unanticipated event in the presence of Lord Ajuri, and now presented a lengthy, cold reading of the document, while the adrenaline was still flowing in the veins of all present—and probably across the nation.

There were twenty-one articles, each briefly mentioned; provincial news would deliver text in greater detail and offer the entire document as public record—but the cameras centered on Ilisidi as she sat down at one end of a small, ornate table and on Machigi as he sat down at the other, bodyguards in evidence, but with the close attendance, now of other lords, the heads of Commerce, and Trade, notable among committees present.

Ilisidi, as the party initiating the agreement, took up a reed pen, and an assistant opened the inkwell in the set before her. She dipped the pen and signed the document. Meanwhile, a lesser clerk of the Bujavid, also in ceremonial dress, lit the first waxjack, an ornate brass affair used for such events, with the end of a red wax coil in the region of heat. That red represented Ilisidi’s Malguri. At the other end of the table, a second clerk lit an identical green one that represented the Taisigin Marid.

Moving with slow deliberation, the first clerk’s first aide positioned at the end of the document both red and gold ribbons, the colors specifically of Malguri, by Ilisidi’s signature. Then a second aide poured wax from the small pan that collected the red wax drip and conveyed it to the first, who poured the wax for the dowager’s seal impression.

Ilisidi removed her ring and affixed the seal into the soft wax. The chief clerk, holding open the document that now trailed red and gold ribbon, conveyed it down the table to lay it before Lord Machigi, who likewise dipped a pen in a matching inkwell, signed, and was similarly assisted to affix his seal over blue and green ribbon. The first and most official document was then conveyed to the chief clerk and conveyed to another small table, where the Master of the Archive waited with yet two more clerks and another waxjack, this one also with red wax, to affix yet one more red ribbon, and atop it the seal of the Archives, signifying the official recording of the agreement in the records of the aishidi’tat.

A little murmur of applause went about among those invited. The cameras took the event into most of the provinces of the aishidi’tat.

Not to the Marid, unfortunately, where television, even radio, was a rarity.

Not to the East Coast, where somewhat the same conditions prevailed.

But that would begin to change, one hoped. Schools, electricity, communications, trade, and prosperitycone hoped. The whole room hoped. But reservations were as universal as hope, on every hand.

Four more copies followed, one apiece for the signers’ own archives, and one apiece for public display.

The dowager rose. Machigi rose and gave a gentlemanly bow to age and rank.

A clerk moved to collect the last papers and knocked a pen off its stand. The twitch on the part of security and on the part of lords expecting trouble went through the room like an electric shock.

“Ha!” Ilisidi said, and banged her cane against the floor, with nearly as abrupt an effect. “We have ordered refreshments! Bring them! There will be signed cards in a while. My new associate—” She held out her hand, as she would for her accustomed companions, to move closer. “Walk with us. Lord Tatiseigi, Lord Geigi, nand’ paidhi, —join us.”

It was nothing less than a triumphal procession. Ilisidi walked her handsome young prize a wide circle about the room, introducing him formally to Lord Geigic

“You will be very useful to each other, nandiin-ji. Rely on Lord Geigi, nandi: you have many things in common, and if Lord Geigi sees you as his ally, he will be your ally in the most difficult of circumstances.”

And to Tatiseigi: “We three all share traits, nandi: respect for the old ways, appreciation for regional diversity, the belief that our people should live better because of our decisions. We three have very, very much to talk about. Lord Machigi, on Lord Tatiseigi you may definitely rely, for honesty, for steadfastness, and, fortunate third, for fearlessness in defense of his allies.”

They progressed to the head of the legislative Commerce Committee and on to Transport and to the head of the Merchants’ Guild, and slowly, slowly there spread through the room a sense of relaxation in the moment, and a sense that things were going well. Souvenir cards were being distributed in the outer hall to the crowd who had attended there; those were without ribbons and seal or signature, merely giving the event and the printed Bujavid seal, but they would be important mementos for those folk and their families. The cards given out in the reception hall itself were signed and ribboned and sealed, a hundred and thirty three of them that would be important displays in the homes of the attendees, cards eventually taken about the room to be signed by various of the participants in the negotiations and by personally significant persons present. Bren signed cards until his hand ached; Geigi did; Tatiseigi signed with a brush, in the Old Alphabet, no less. The principals, including Ilisidi and Machigi, had to stay at the table, apart from the refreshments, signing and signing—a courtesy to the attendees which was not required, nor even expected. Machigi’s willingness and his quick good humor and winning ways, as Jago reported, were gaining good report throughout the room.

“We take encouragement,” a lord of the Conservative Caucus said to Machigi in Bren’s hearing, “in this meeting and in your welcoming of the guild structure in the Marid, nandi. We are most encouraged.”

“We are very pleased, nandi,” one of the Liberal Caucus said, “that you are bringing technology to the Marid.”

“Technology,” Machigi said, “and education. One has read the history of education in the North and foresees a similar set of obstacles, but we are prepared to undertake it. We actively seek advisement.”

That man was so engaged it took a reminder from the event marshals, part of Bujavid security, to move him on.

It was going well, it was going very well, and Tano turned up with a cup of punch, not innocent of alcohol, which he set carefully on the table.

“It is sworn safe, nandi,” Tano said, on best formal behavior.

Bren took a sip, in a momentary lull in the proceedings.

“The Bujavid guards,” Jago said quietly, leaning her hand on the table on Bren’s other side, “have sent Lord Komaji downtown by way of the train and the aiji’s car, and they are at his hotel. Tabini-aiji has ordered him and his entourage to leave the capital. With Damiri-daja’s former staff.”

God. “Damiri-daja.”

“Is still in residence,” Jago said.

That was a relief. And a development. A serious one.

But it was nothing to discuss where they were.

It was nothing to discuss during the long social that followed, a session in a back room of the lower floor, with the dowager, with Machigi, with Geigi, Tatiseigi, Dur elder and younger, and involving more specifics on the first steps in the new agreement, shared over a glass or two of brandy.

It was a happy occasion. It was optimistic.

And the event was of far greater moment than a frustrated power seeker headed for an unwilling train ride to a minor clan holding in the North.

Damiri had stayed by Tabini, rejected her Ajuri staff, swung over to her Atageini heritage—which her father had never favored.

One understood why a contract marriage was a dangerous undertaking in an ateva’s life, and why a lasting marriage was among the greatest. So much changed, over a lifetime.

So much had changed. And the year was still young.

Bren sipped his drink, set it down, and listened to Lord Geigi and Lord Machigi discussing the southern climate and fruit trees.

So very much had changed.