Текст книги "Deceiver "

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Peisi!” Geigi exclaimed in sudden recognition, and walked out to meet an old man, who bowed, deeply affected, and Geigi bowed, and soon they were the center of a cluster of older folk, the younger hanging back in uncommon solemnity.

It was not all good news that was relayed, Bren surmised, watching that exchange and the sad nods. Geigi surely asked after absent staff, and did not get, apparently, a happy answer in all cases. Bren hung back with the dowager and Cajeiri, in company with their security, not to forget that there were others of the Guild up on the roof, maintaining a watch and a vantage over the whole situation.

There must have been a phone call gone out to the village, too, because in not too long a time, people came walking up the road, meeting old acquaintances with a great deal of bowing and politeness. Some of the villagers had brought small gifts, packets of, perhaps, food; or items they thought might be in scarcity at Kajiminda, like tea, and pressed these little packets on the Kajiminda staff.

Geigi was quite moved by it all. And came to present his elderly majordomo to the dowager and to the young gentleman, and to Bren: “I remember you, Peisi-nadi,” Bren said, and did. The good will was palpable, in all present, and made all their precautions seem excessive.

One recalled it was exactly the mood evoked in the machimi plays—before the last act. They now had to get back on that bus, he and everyone involved.

He had not—God!—remembered to tell Toby where he was going. He had been in the atevi world, lost in it, and he had outright forgotten. But it was too late. Barb and Toby had not come out. They were probably back in the basement, oblivious to what was happening above, until some servant might inform them they now could move back upstairs.

And with a certain misgiving, and a look back at his own front door, Bren paid his parting respects to the dowager and Cajeiri, bows.

“One anticipates,” he said, “at least a stay overnight.” The baggage compartment of the bus was open, and staff was loading on his baggage, including supplies, and his entire aishid’s gear, and Geigi’s four, which took some shoving. “One regrets to withdraw any support from your safety here, aiji-ma. But—”

“We shall manage,” the dowager said. “Take care, nand’ paidhi.”

And to Cajeiri he said: “Bend all your energies to protecting your great-grandmother, young lord. See that the doors stay shut and people stay within the house. And one asks a personal favor. Go downstairs and explain to nand’ Toby that I shall be gone just overnight and that nothing is wrong. One absolutely relies on you.”

“Yes, nand’ Bren,” Cajeiri said soberly. And: “We so wish we were going.”

“The young gentleman knowsc”

“We know,” Cajeiri sighed. And added helpfully: “We jammed the surveillance in the second tower. Perhaps my father’s men have fixed it. But it could still be broken. You should check that!”

“We shall indeed, young lord,” Bren said, and took his leave and went to escort Lord Geigi up onto the bus.

He had all four of his bodyguards going with him; Geigi had his four, and his four domestics, and that meant many of the younger returning staff had to stand in the aisle, but it was all in good, if solemn, cheerfulness. People carried aboard their gifts, tied with colored string, and, wrapped in colored tissue, even a bouquet of seasonal household flowers and some stones and a small winter branch, a token of alliance, no matter the season, for display in the house.

Their Najidi driver got on board and started up the engine, closing the doors. Villagers and staff cleared away slowly from the path of the bus.

The village truck was waiting out on the road, loaded with such bulky things as flour, preserves, and other foodstuffs and basic necessities from Najida estate—there was no likelihood the aiji’s men would have allowed anything to remain in storage from the prior resident when they were clearing the place, for fear of poison, and just as a matter of policy. The search and clearance would have taken the pantry down to bare shelves, Banichi said, and so the truck would go on back to the train station, not down to Separti, and pick up a double supply of groceries they meant to order in, some for Kajiminda, and others for Najida and its village. It might be slightly short commons this evening, give or take what Najida sent, but supplies would be coming in tomorrow.

There was a load of lumber coming in, too, on the train; not to mention Lord Geigi’s new truck—that was already ordered. And a bus. Kajiminda would need its own bus, and fairly soon.

Kajiminda was coming back to life, and took all manner of supply. It wasa cheerful prospect they had.

And somewhere out there across the meadows and small woods, Edi were out doing their own survey of sites, which would mean more building supplies coming in from the south. Businesses down in Separti and Dalaigi were going to be happy about that—without quite figuring, yet, perhaps, that the way politics had run on the west coast for two hundred years was about to undergo a sea change.

The truck traveled ahead of them, too, for a very practical reason—it protected the bus. Though Ilisidi’s young men had kept a very close eye on the district, one never forgot there were some very good Guild doubtless under orders to infiltrate and cause harm of various sort. Guild rules protected non-Guild from involvement; but one had, Algini had once said, no confidence that the Guildsmen in Marid employ were going to be as observant of the rules.

“Some Guild in Southern employ now are outlaws,” Algini had said on that occasion, a rare revelation about internal Guild operations, “who did not report in to Guild headquarters after the aiji’s return. Some are reported dead, which the Guild very much doubts. We have been quietly hunting these people. Some are suspect of crimes and illegal tactics.”

Chilling memory, on this occasion.

But thus far the Guild was handling the whole district with tongs—because of the Edi.

He would bet a great deal that Algini had communicated personally with Guild headquarters, to relay to Guild leadership certain very unpleasant observationsc and possibly to receive certain orders from Guild leadership. Algini had said he was no longer operating at that level of the Guild, but the fact was that those who didoperate at that level of the Guild were inclined to develop a cover story, so no often meant no, but it sometimes meant one was not talking.

Geigi had settled opposite him, with his security standing just behind, as his own sat and stood near him; and the bus moved quite slowly, pacing itself behind the truckc which had not yet run into any undermined culvert, or other such illegal trick.

“I am nerving myself for what I shall see, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “The devastation of my grounds, my orchardc my collections. I wish this were a happier moment in that regard. But I have recovered my people. Mypeople.”

“Be assured about the orchard,” Bren said. “One has just read part of your nephew’s account, and he claims to have planted new trees in the west of the orchard.”

“Gods know what he planted,” Geigi said with a deep sigh. “But that does offer some hope. And my boat. I hope it has survived intact.”

“When last my staff was there, it was riding securely at anchor, and they handed matters directly to the aiji’s men. One hopes they have checked it out.”

“Baji-naji,” Geigi said. “One hopes so, too.”

Bump. Even the modern bus springs had trouble with that one.

The road had seen a bit more traffic since their last visit– the Najida truck traveling back and forth had actually worn down the grassy track here and there. The bumps, however, were little improved.

But when they came to the turn off toward Kajiminda estate, and when they had reached the gates, the view of the harbor showed Lord Geigi’s yacht riding serene and safe on the dark water. That heartened Geigi no end, enough to lift his spirits even in the face of conditions inside the estate grounds: the neglect of paint and edgings about the walls, the sad state of the gates, hanging crooked on their hinges, and notably the portico being completely missing—except two and a half pillars with the beginnings of a timber frame between two of them.

“Najida is doing a grand job, Bren-ji,” Geigi said. “You are a most excellent neighbor.”

“One will relay the compliment to Najida village,” Bren said, himself heartened to see what progress the carpenters had made. The estate at least had the look of a place being improved, not a place in complete ruin: they had done that much for Lord Geigi.

A small dark van was parked on the circular drive, just beyond the building. Two men in Guild black came out of the house to meet the bus as it pulled up to the side of the construction zone. Banichi and Jago, along with Geigi’s men, got off the bus to meet them—Tabini’s forces, Bren said to himself, watching the handoff of keys and a small booklet. The book contained, one suspected, codewords or perhaps technical specs on equipment that might have been installed for the estate’s protection.

There was a solemn exchange of formalities, Banichi bowed, the leader of Tabini’s lot did, and then they headed off for the van and Banichi gave a small hand signal toward the bus.

“We may go, nandiin,” Tano said, standing up behind Bren’s seat. Bren got up, Geigi did, and the rest of the company took it for a signal, waiting, however, for them.

Down the steps, then, Bren descending very cautiously behind Lord Geigi. The last thing they needed was a bad omen like falling down the bus steps on an arrival like this, and he was more than a little on edge descending to the cobbles, mentally hearing the gunshots and the crash that had accompanied the fall of the former portico, unconsciously scanning the peripheries of the drive and building for any threat.

He didn’t waste time getting to the side of the building, which afforded major protection. Geigi stared about him a moment: it was his first time home in a very long time, and he was clearly trying to catch a view of his orchard, off behind the wall to the left—but Geigi’s bodyguard moved him very quickly to the open front door and on into the house. Bren followed, and Jago and Banichi stayed close as they entered the front hall. Tano and Algini went on past them, past Geigi and his guard, back into the further recesses of the house, evidently on a program of their own, and probably having consulted with Geigi’s men.

Geigi’s stationside major domo, Barati, came to him, bowed, and asked, with brimming excitement in his old eyes, whether the lord would care to take tea in the sitting room.

“Yes, Bara-ji,” Geigi said warmly, and then to Bren: “Will you join me, Bren-ji?”

Staff, for one thing, wanted the lords contained, amused and out of trouble for the hour. One couldn’t blame them for that. “Delighted,” Bren said, and went with Geigi to the sitting room he had lately occupied with Baiji. There they settled down, while the house quietly resounded with footsteps. Banichi and Jago stayed outside, and would be very busy right along with Geigi’s guard and Geigi’s four station staff, checking things out in the transition from Tabini’s men.

That was going to take hours. And a lot of tea.

But at least it was quiet in the house, and the likelihood of anything turning up to threaten them was not at all high, considering the handoff from Tabini’s men. The serving staff proudly arrived with tea and cakes from the supplies brought with them.

And he and Geigi had a lot to talk about, now that the matter of the estate seemed settled—not imminent business, nothing so dark as that; but the state of affairs on the space station—the likelihood of the promised visitation by the kyo, the aliens they had met in deep space; the state of affairs in his own stationside apartment, and the cherished staff he had left there, staff that had passed all but unnoticed in his lightning-fast transfer from the ship to the downbound shuttle. How were they? Well, it seemed, and happy enough. There had been a marriage on staff, and a baby was expected—fine news, but the couple and the baby very much needed passage to the world again, to present the new arrival to the respective clans.

Their talk wandered on to the station’s decision to build and drop the mobile stations: the decision to set up the cell phone network on the Island—a means of collecting observations from Mospheira during Murini’s takeover, and a means of reassuring and distracting a nervous Mospheiran population that they were still protected from a now-hostile and dangerous regime on the mainland.

It had worked. Mospheira had been utterly—and completely– distracted by the phones. They were protected from mainland troubles. But they walked off curbs into traffic, arguing with their girlfriends.

A sigh. And now the cell-plague threatened the mainland.

It could be useful here and there. He was starting to admit that. He still thought it too potent a change to loose in atevi society, wholesale.

Which he didn’t say. Geigi was the consummate gadget-addict, even more than Tabini, and that was saying a bit.

And while they discussed station politics and station gossip, Kajiminda quietly took on an actual semblance of its former life.

Then Geigi’s security reported the arrival of a number of lightly-armed Edi folk from further out on the peninsula, seeking permission to establish a surveillance post in the farther extent of the orchard and out by the estate wall.

“Yes,” was Geigi’s answer. “Coordinate with them, nadiin-ji.”

And hard upon that good sign was not-so-good news from the majordomo: there were certain valuable artworks missing. They were still taking account, but the absence of a famous porcelain was significant.

“The scoundrel,” Geigi muttered, over a renewed cup of tea. “The unprincipled young scoundrel. That is a famous piece! Did he think I would never notice? Or did he not know what it was?”

“I think we may surmise the district who dealt with him,” Bren said grimly. “And someone there undoubtedly knew its value. Or possibly some individual not in the district paid the price for it, someone who did not attend to its provenance.”

“Or my nephew forged the attendant documents.”

“Either way, one is certain the Artists’ Guild will have a certain interest in the matter, and I have some confidence in the integrity of that guild, throughout. One understands they came under some pressure during the Troubles, and did not buckle. They may turn it up.”

“One will prepare an inquiry,” Geigi said grimly. “Banditry. This is banditry. And Kajiminda, I am sure, has not lost so much as others. Except my sister. Poor woman. She was not stupid, Bren-ji, except in her doting on the boy.”

“Her protection did not improve him,” Bren said with a shake of his head, and then they fell to discussing the Marid, the rise of Machigi to the lordship over the region, and his ambitions—not least of it certain things he had gathered from files, who was now in charge of what township, and who was in favor and who not.

Banichi came in with another report, along with two of Geigi’s bodyguard, detailing the findings, progress in stocking the necessities for the estate, and the meeting with the leader of the peninsula’s Edi residents—who were armed, setting up camps around and about, and with shelters and camouflaged blinds.

It was not a regulation Guild operation, to say the least.

“Irregular,” was Banichi’s judgement, “but not easy to infiltrate, nandiin.”

“How is the interface, nadiin-ji?” Geigi asked his own security, who had come in with Banichi, and with a shrug, his head of security said: “Information flows, thus far, nandi. We have no difficulty.”

Excellent news, that the Guild and the irregulars were communicating. Banichi left. Jago, Tano, and Algini had not put in an appearance in hours, and did not reappear by supper, which turned out to be a one-pot dish, but savory and a great deal of it—admirable under the circumstances. The cook was one of the local Edi women, who reported she had told the paidhi’s staff exactly her secret recipe, and had substituted two spices at their request.

That was the terrifying problem—the herbal possibilities in the countryside were unusual, traditional cooks were not chemists, and had no idea which were poisonous to humans. Bren ate cautiously, a few spoonfuls, then a period of conversation and concentration on the bread, then a few more, pleading that he was full, thank you, nadi-ji. So very good and rich, one dare not overindulgec

Dessert was a cheesecake and compote, and he, for once, ate the whole atevi-scaled serving.

And retired for an evening of nothing but light and pleasant converse with Geigi on boats, local fishing, and the markets.

He was aware, however, keenly aware, that his bodyguard was notrelaxing. At a certain point, toward dusk, Banichi and Jago arrived in the sitting room with Tano and Algini, who went out into the hall and disappeared, to rest, possibly, but more likely to be watching the irregulars, the house staff, andGeigi’s guards.

Security was not going to have a restful night.

Bedtime arrived, and Geigi’s Kajiminda majordomo showed him to a room where staff had put his luggage. His next day’s clothing was pressed, hung, and attended to, and two of Geigi’s staff showed up to assist him with undressing and to attend to necessities. He took a fairly quick bath—having no desire to be caught in the bathtub by a general alarm, which was more and more likely, counting the hour and the likelihood the Marid was highly annoyed at their reclaiming the place.

His second concern, and the one that went to bed with him, was Najida. He was sure his security would tell him if anything were remotely wrong there, or if they’d detected anything to worry about. But they had spent the whole day waiting for the other shoe to drop here at Kajiminda, and he was sure there was one due to drop somewhere—given the shift of Tabini’s forces down toward the township.

So he stared at the ceiling now, and fretted. No distracting conversation. Nothing to do. Nothing he coulddo but get up and wander the halls, annoying staff, who were working in shifts through the night trying to set things to rights.

He had quietly brought his pistol with him—had it on the bedside table, and Jago had, also very quietly, when his staff at Najida was packing, included one of her jackets for him, which had added considerably to the weight of the suitcase. He had hung that on a chair right beside the nightstand, just in case, and was glad to have it. If shooting did break out, the paidhi-aiji would at least have that between him and a body-aimed bullet, freeing his staff to take care of themselves. Among his thoughts tonight, given this new breakout of civil unrest, was that a bulletproof vest his own size would not be a bad item to own and take with him when he traveled. Uncomfortable—yes. But he kept getting into these places. Or places he went kept erupting into chaos.

And hewas supposed to be the peacemaker.

Jago came to bed, finally, well after midnight, tired and trying not to wake him.

“Good evening,” he murmured, rolling over.

“You should not be awake, Bren-ji,” she said.

“One was awake thinking on our situation,” he said. He had no wish to imply his insomnia was anything she could cure, or she would scant other needful things. “How are we doing out there, Jago-ji?”

“Very well so far,” she said, peeling off her shirt. “We are in contact with Najida, which is spending a quiet night. We have spoken with Edi folk in the encampment, which has no difficulties tonight. The aiji’s forces in Separti Township have had a less restful evening, but they may have put some of the Southern Guild to inconvenience.”

“One is delighted with that.”

“It is the plan,” she said, “for the aiji’s forces to keep our enemies busy and pinned down in the township, if possible, for at least the next number of days. They will be encouraged to flee southward or to sea, not in our direction.”

“An excellent plan,” he said. What they least wanted was to have their enemies move in on Najida.

But there was by now, one hoped, considerable Edi presence in the field across from his estate and up on the train station road.

“One would appreciate just one restful night,” Jago said, and hung her gun within reach of her side of the bed, which was between him and the door.

“How is the returned staff?” he asked. “Are they in good mind about this risk?”

“They are determined,” Jago said, and sat down on the bed, turning toward him. “Likewise the Edi in the camp. The Guild does not approve of amateurs, understand. But these—the better name is irregulars—are not entirely in that class, and we should make certain agreements with them in areas where they know their resources. Algini intends to make a firm point of this with the Guild. We cannot bring them into our operations, nor would they accept it, but we can create a mode of reasonable cooperation, within certain difficult districts. This is long overdue. Since the Troubles, it has become more important. This is all secret, of course.”

He withheld comment. Rare that even Jago discussed Guild policy. It was certainly not the paidhi-aiji’s business to pass on it, though she apparently considered it need-to-know. He mentally labeled that piece of information as privileged, like their cook’s secret recipe, and let it rest.

For what else they did in bed, absolutely no discussion was necessary.

11

« ^ »

It was exciting, Cajeiri had thought at first, after nand’ Bren left, to know one was on one’s own—almost. Except for Great-grandmother’s guard.

Cajeiri had gone down to visit nand’ Toby and Barb-daja. And, with the staff, he had helped them move upstairs to the suite that nand’ Geigi had now vacated in favor of his own estate. It was funny how everybody kept changing rooms. Even nand’ Toby thought it was funny.

But after that, nand’ Toby and Barb-daja were busy settling in to the upstairs suite and trying to talk to the servants, and then they were sitting about and moping and worrying about their boat being down in the harbor and about nand’ Bren being over at Lord Geigi’s estate where it was dangerous. They did play a game of cards with him. But they moped until dinner.

Moped. That was another of Great-grandmother’s words, and a state of being he was to avoid. Only bored people moped, Great-grandmother said, and only boring people could be bored.

And hewas not to be boring.

Great-grandmother herself was alternately busy and out of sorts, though she did not mope. Great-grandmother herself nevermoped. She did play a board game with him after dinner, but won, persistently, so that was no fun. One always knew when Great-grandmother was on the hunt, and she was now, and just did not let him win.

So he and Antaro and Jegari taught his two new bodyguards to play poker when they got back to the room, and then proceeded to win a few hands. That was good. Veijico and Lucasi were behaving much more respectfully after he had had them out working with other Guild all day.

They were respectful for a while. Then they started winning, and were not polite about it. He grew disgusted, and took all his guard out into the hall and down to see if Barb-daja and nand’ Toby were doing anything interesting, but there was no sound from that suite.

The only place still alive at this midnight hour was the kitchen, so he went there, back behind the dining room, and hung around Cook, who, with his staff, was cleaning up. He wanted to see how that worked, since it was the only entertainment going, and how the kitchen ran. There were treats. There always were if you hung around the kitchen: there were spare pastries from supper, and Cook said he was making up a snack for the guard change, when the guards on the roof came down.

Veijico and Lucasi were still with him, along with Antaro and Jegari, but Veijico and Lucasi got bored and stopped paying attention. They went off into the dining room without permission, and were talking to one of the house staff. Cajeiri put his head out and looked, and they said, “Just a moment.” Without even “nandi.”

That made him mad.

That made him very mad. He waited that moment. And waited. And they went on talking with one of the serving staff, who was Edi, and who did not want to talk to them, because the servant was supposed to be helping Cook.

“Nandi,” Antaro said quietly, close by him, “shall we go get them?”

“No,” he said, and then he thought he would just teach them a lesson. He made a sign for silence to Antaro and Jegari and he took them both out the back way, using the servants’ passages, just to see how long it would take Veijico and Lucasi to figure out he was missing. He could have taken the back way all the way around and gotten all the way back to his suite without coming into the hall at all.

But about that time the guard changed. He watched from one of the side doors as some of mani’s guard went outside to the garden, where there was an easy way up to the roof, and there was noise overhead, as the guard that had been up there began to come down for hot sandwiches and tea.

Which would probably give Veijico and Lucasi someone else to talk to and another excuse to ignore him. He was disgusted.

So he went down to the lower hall, where nand’ Toby and Barb had been until they had moved upstairs.

From there they walked way around past the kitchen storerooms into the residency hall, where most of the servants had their rooms. They did not go to the hall where Lord Baiji was. That would run them straight into two of Great-grandmother’s young men and he had the notion of not being findable.

“Nandi,” Antaro said. “We two should go up and advise Lucasi and Veijico. We do not need to say where you are. But they will be worried up there by now.”

“Good,” he said. “They should be.”

So they found a storeroom to explore, and looked through it, just to see the fishing tackle and odd things that hung about, tools he had never seen—it was just interesting to poke about the house when most everybody was asleep.

But then he heard the distant thump of one of the big doors.

That was a little worrisome. It was afterthe time for the guard change. Something was going on upstairs.

“Maybe someone has come from nand’ Bren,” he said, and they left the storeroom and went out into the hall, where they ran straight into one of nand’ Bren’s valets.

“Nandi! They are looking for you! They are looking for you everywhere! They are even searching outside!”

“Gods less fortunate.” It was his father’s favorite bad word.

“Fools!” That was his great-grandmother’s. He headed down the corridor, heading for the servant accesses to the upstairs, and Antaro and Jegari were close behind him.

They burst up into the main hall and saw only one of the servants, who exclaimed: “Young lord! The Guild is looking for you!”

“Did someone just now go outside, nadi?”

“Several people, nandi. Nand’ Toby, the lady, two of your young guard, and two of the aiji-dowager’s—”

Disaster. Complete disaster. “Run, tell my great-grandmother we are safe, nadi!” He ran for the door, Antaro and Jegari with him. He flung up the floor lock. Jegari got the top locks. By then another servant had run up and started trying to keep the door shut, crying out that they were to stay inside.

“Stand back, nadi!” he snapped, and they got one side of the doors open, enough to rush out under the portico in the dark. The walk led around beside the house, and down a series of zigzags in scrub and rock to reach the harbor.

He stayed close by the front house wall and ran as far as the very top of that walk, cupped his hands about his mouth, and yelled down the hill at the top of his lungs: “We are up here, nandi, nadiin-ji! We are safe! Come—!”

Shots erupted, flashes off in the dark to the right, shots from across the slope. Then shots banged out from off the roof, shots came from everywhere at once, and he and Jegari and Antaro all dived for cover against the house wall.

The house door opened, throwing light and servants’ silhouettes out onto the cobbled drive.

“Go back, nadiin!” Cajeiri yelled back from his hiding-spot. “We are safe here! Shut the door! You are lighting us up!”

The door thumped shut. Dark fell on the portico again. One did not wish to be responsible for enemies getting into the house, into Great-grandmother’s vicinity. At least Cenediwould be with Great-grandmother, not leaving her for anything—which was good. So all he and Antaro and Jegari needed to do was just stay flat and not get into any more trouble until the Guild handled the problem.

People shouted, far downhill. One was nand’ Toby, shouting in Mosphei’: “Barb, where are you? Somebody help! Somebody help! Barb’s not here!”

Nobody could understand him. Cajeiri did.

“Barb-daja is in trouble,” Cajeiri said, and wriggled onto the flagstones, but he could not see Toby. He decided to risk it. He yelled down the hill: “Veijio! Lucasi! Everybody! Help nand’ Toby! He cannot find Barb-daja!” And in the sudden thought that nand’ Toby might be carrying a gun: “Nand’ Toby, keep down! I have sent my guard down to help you!”

Shots were still going off, sporadically.

Then someone yelled out faintly, from far, far below: “Along the waterline! Someone is down there!”

“Don’t shoot!” Cajeiri yelled out. “It could be Barb-daja!”

It was a mess. It was a terrible, mistaken mess.

And he had started it, making everyone think he had done something stupid—because that was what people always assumed he would do.

More shots went off, all the same. On both sides.

“Barb!” nand’ Toby yelled. His voice cracked. There was no answer. Guild were surely moving out there, and it was dangerous for Toby to keep shouting. “ Barb!”

Then there was quiet for a few moments, just the whisper of the wind and the sound of the water up from the harbor, the bump of something hitting wood, in the rhythm of the waves, from far, far down at the dock. It was that quiet for a moment. Several moments.