Текст книги "Inheritor"

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Ceramics and plastics as well as aircraft were all mainland items that Mospheira imported. Oilwas an import from the mainland. There was oil to the north of the island, offshore, but that had lain right near the highest priced real estate on the island and that development had stalled because the oil supply from the mainland had never been threatened since that discovery.

The atevi head of state was no fool. The atevi head of state had sold aircraft and oil to the island at very good prices—just as his father before him had done. Aviation guided by the paidhi’s reports and the human desire for trade had run out of domestic market and diverted its ambitions toward satellites. It needed a launch vehicle which it planned to build on the island, but to achieve that it had to bring atevi industry up to such a capability itself in order to supply the components. So even before the arrival of the ship was a suspicion in the skies, rockets of Mospheiran design were on the negotiating table, and Patinandi Aeronautics on the mainland had become Patinandi Aerospace.

The ship arrived: the heavy lift rockets Mospheira envisioned were a dead issue. Plans for a reusable spaceplane arrived from the heavens and in one dayafter accepting the concept as viable the aiji in Shejidan had ordered Patinandi to shift its production of parts sufficient for the commercial air fleet to a somewhat older but still viable facility during the building of an auxiliary aircraft plant.

Consequent to that pen stroke in Shejidan, and literally before another sun set, Patinandi in Sarini Province had begun packing up the dies and essential equipment for that production for freighting to a province other than Geigi’s, a province which was about to profit handsomely.

And with no one being cast out of a job, the aiji instantaneously and by decree converted the largest aircraft manufacturing and assembly plant in the world to a round-the-clock effort to build a spacecraft, no debates, no committees, no dithering. Amazinghow fast the whole atevi system could move now, considering that the space program had once been hung up on a committee debate on the design of chemical rocket slosh baffles for three months.

Half a year ago none of this had existed.

And depending on the technical accuracy of the paidhi’s trans-species interpretation and translation of what were in effect historical documents, that ship down there was going to fly sooner than he was supposed to admit even to Jase. The frame design was by no means innovative; the dual engines, the zero-g systems, the heat shield, and the interactive computers were the revolutionary items.

And as to whyatevi accepted this design without the usual debate on the numbers that had previously absorbed atevi attention and slowed projects down to a crawl, why, the numbers of this craft were clearly felicitous and beyond debate, even its engines and computers. Down to the tires it landed on, it was an historical replica of an actual earth-to-orbit craft named Pegasuswhich had plied the skies of the human Earth for two decades at a similar gravity and on a similar mission, which had never suffered disaster or infelicity of any kind, and which had existed in harmony with the skies and the numbers of infinite space until its retirement, a craft thereby proven to have been in harmony with the universe and to have brought good fortune to its designers and its users.

On that simple assurance—and only the atevi gods knew how Tabini’s canny numerologists had gotten thatagreed upon—the debate which might have killed the project was done. The numerologists, still stunned by FTL, were all satisfied—or at least they retired to study the numbers of its design and to determine what had madeit felicitous, so that atevi science might benefit.

That kind of rapid agreement had never accelerated any otherprogram on record. No one had made anything of that fact in his hearing, but in his view it was a revolution in atevi philosophy as extreme as FTL, and almost as scary. One almost guessed that lives had been threatened or that somewhere in secret meetings the usual people who stood up and objected to the numbers had been urgently hushed. Tabini wantedthis project and if atevi didn’t have it, then the numbers of atevi fortunes might turn against them, indeed.

They’d lightened and widened the seats to accommodate atevi bodies, but to keep, as atevi put it, the harmony of successful numbers, they’d varied no other parameter, and the sum of mass was the same, figuring in that atevi simply weighed more than humans. Atevi would simply have to duck their heads, sit closer, and deal with the comfort factor once they’d become comfortable with spaceframe design.

There was even (to the absolute consternation of certain elements on Mospheira, he was sure) smug discussion of selling passenger slots to humans, if the diplomatic details could be worked out. Some human factions, it had been reported, likedthat idea, as a way to have spaceflight without a sudden increase in taxes.

Others, Shawn had said in his last conversation, liked it because it so enraged the conservatives of the Human Heritage Society. The Foreign Affairs office had probably sent up balloons and blown horns when, eight weeks ago, he’d translated to the President the aiji’s offer of selling seats; and George Barrulin’s phones had probably melted on his desk.

The catwalk quaked as lord Geigi, having been delayed momentarily in conversation on the level below, came up the steps, followed by the rest of the lords and officials. Their respective security personnel took up watchful and precautionary positions and kept the paidhi slightly back from the rail. Black skin and golden eyes were the standard not only of the locals but of the whole atevi world, and he was all too aware that a fairish-haired human dressed generally in house-neutral colors stood out. There was no other way to say it.

Stood out, child-sized, against the silver-studded black leather of Tano and Algini, who represented the power of the atevi head of state.

Stood out, in the many-buttoned and knee-length coat of court fashion, and in the distinctive white ribbon incorporated in his braid: the paidhi’s color, the man of no house. Tabini had told him he should choose colors, as he had to have something recognizable for formal presentations; and Ilisidi herself had said white would do very well with his fair hair, show his independence from the black and red of the aiji’s house—and offend no one.

He glowed, he was well aware, like a pale neon sign to any sniper in the recesses behind those floodlights.

But count on it: there’d been a thorough security search before he entered the building and one last night, a search not only by his security, with an interest in keeping him alive; but also by lord Geigi’s, interested in keeping their lord alive and in keeping any of lord Geigi’s enemies from embarrassing him in an attack on the paidhi.

He knew for that reason that he was an inconvenience to the plant workers, who’d had to pass meticulous security to get to work this morning.

But the paidhi, personally sent by the aiji in Shejidan,was making a gesture of public support such as atevi politics absolutely demanded. The workers would see it. Atevi interested in Geigi’s fortunes would witness another indication of Geigi’s rescue from economic ruin and his subsequent rise to prominence and economic power in his region.

And standing where he was the paidhi only hoped all Geigi’s people were loyal. Tano and Algini might well have been drinking antacids by the bottleful since he’d set down at the airport, and declared he’d sleep in Geigi’s house, and now at the plant manager’s urging he’d agreed to walk up on this exposed platform. Even they, however, had to admit that the odds of treachery from Geigi were practically nil and that the odds that Geigi would have loyalty from his own people were high. From the atevi point of view Geigi’s numbers were still in active increase and therefore a problem in the atevi version of calculus.

Besides, no one had tried to file Intent on the paidhi’s life in, oh, at least a month.

That was what the analysts in the aiji’s court called acceptable riskin making this stop on his tour in the first place. The professionals guarding him while he was in the district making such spontaneous gestures he was sure had other words for it.

“Splendid effort,” he declared to lord Geigi. “I’m truly amazed at the progress. I’m absolutely amazed. So will the aiji be.”

“Nand’ Borujiri,” lord Geigi said, “has worked very hard.”

“Nand’ Borujiri.” He inclined his head to acknowledge that worthy gentleman, director of Patinandi Aerospace, who despite physical frailty had accompanied him up to the highest catwalk, followed by the lords of townships within lord Geigi’s association in Sarini Province. “I shall convey your recommendations to the aiji. Absolutely splendid organization. One would wish to render appreciation to all the persons responsible.”

“Nand’ paidhi,” Borujiri said, moving slowly, not only because of age but also a long illness. “My monument, this work. I am determined it will be that. I have dedicated a portion of my estate to the recreation of the workers who will entitle themselves in this effort. And such an effort our people have made!”

“Everything here is in shifts,” lord Geigi interposed. “Nothing stops for night. And quality control, nand’ paidhi, meticulous quality control.” A horn sounded several short bursts, a signal for attention; Bren and his trigger-ready security had been advised in advance, and lord Geigi rested hands on the catwalk rail looking out over the vast assembly area. “Nadiin-ji! The paidhi commends your work and your diligence! Attention, if you please, to the paidhi-aiji!”

He grew used to such addresses. But reporters dogged him: there were reporters below who would carry what he said to the news services, reporters who, because of the major transportation lines, were in greater abundance here than in his last two, more rural, stops.

“Nadiin,” he called out to the upturned faces and himself leaned on the forbidden railing. “You have exceeded ambitious expectations and set high standards, highstandards, in work on which brave atevi will rely for their lives in space. But more than that—” It was in truth a beautiful sight in front of him, those pieces. Though for the reporters’ sakes, he tried to provide variety in his speeches and at the same time to keep them brief, he suddenly meant to say somethingdifferent than he’d said before on such tours. In the presence of old Borujiri and lord Geigi, in this first time that he could allow himself to believe there wasa spacecraft, and in the enthusiasm of engineers and ordinary workers who had foregone vacations and ignored quitting times to advance the work—he felt his inspiration.

“More than that, nadiin-nai, high standards in a work unprecedented in the history of the world. Plates of steel may make a sailing ship. But when it takes to the waves, when hands at work make that ship a living creature, then it binds all that ship’s makers and all who ever sail aboard that ship in an association that reaches to every shore that ship touches. Your hands and your efforts are building a ship to carry the hopes of all the world, nadiin! The work of your hands, the vision of your director, the wisdom of your lords, and the courage of atevi who will ride this ship will reach out to new things in the heavens, and draw the heavens and all their possibilities into your arms. The aiji in Shejidan will receive my report of you as extraordinary and dedicated workers, and I do not doubt you will remain in his mind at the next seasonal audience, at which lord Geigi and nand’ Borujiri inform me and permit me to inform you they will sponsor a representative from each shift at their own expense. My congratulations, nadiin, I need not offer you! You have distinguished yourselves and brought credit to your province, your district, your endeavor! Hundreds of years from now atevi will tell the story, how willing hands and the skill of such builders carried atevi into space on their own terms and in their own right!”

He expected nothing but the polite attention atevi paid a speaker, followed by the formal, measured applause.

“Nand’ paidhi!” he heard instead, and then a shouting from throughout the facility. “Nand’ Bren!”

Thatless than formal title had gotten started in the less reputable press. He blushed and waved, and stepped away from the rail, at which point Tano and Algini closed between him and the crowd, a living wall.

“Nand’ paidhi,” lord Geigi said, and wished him with a gesture to go down.

“A wonderful expression.” Nand’ Borujiri was clearly moved. “I shall have it engraved, nand’ paidhi. A marvelous gift!”

“You are very kind, nand’ director.”

“A passionate speech,” lord Geigi said, and kept close by him as they descended. “If the aiji can spare you, nadi, pleaseaccept my personal hospitality and extend your visit to a few days at Dalaigi, at a far slower pace, in, I assure you, the most wonderful climate in the country. The yellowtail will not wait. The paperwork will always be there. And if you provide my cook the fish and a day to prepare it, nand’ paidhi, I do assure you the result will be an exquisite, very passionate offering. He so approves your taste in your brief experience of his art last evening.”

It was partly, he was sure, formality and a desire not to have Borujiri suggest the same; it was likely, also, a truly honest offer, repeated, now, and he understood from Algini that the cook was extremely pleased in his requests for a local specialty last evening. The man was an excellent cook: Geigi’s relationship with food was unabashed and the cuisine of the household was deservedly renowned.

He was weakening. He was about to request his security to inquire of his office whether he could possibly manage one more day.

But he felt a sharp vibration from his pocket-com as they started down the third tier of steps, and that flutter signaled him his security was wanting his attention or advising him to the negative—the latter, he decided, when Tano cast him a direct look and no encouraging if the paidhi would preferregarding that invitation to a change in flight schedules and a return to the lord’s residence.

“I fear, nandi,” Bren sighed, “that my schedule back in the capital precludes it.” He had no warning in that small vibration of imminent danger. He took it for his staff’s warning against lingering in public view or a simple advisement he was, with more urgency than anyone had yet communicated to him, expected elsewhere. “But if the invitation were extended again through your kindness, perhaps for some other seasonal game, I would be more than pleased, nand’ Geigi, very truthfully.”

God, he wantedthat holiday, and he liked-liked-likedlord Geigi against all common sense governing use of that deceptive and deadly word, and he didn’twant to hear from his security that lord Geigi had changed sides again.

He set foot on the floor of the assembly area and the battalion of reporters tried to reach him. But the frontal assault of cameras failed to breach his security, as Tano and Algini directed him and his entire party aside through the plant manager’s office and up against the earnest good wishes of a woman who, like Borujiri, saw fortune and good repute in his visit.

“Nand’ paidhi!” She bowed, and proffered a card with a ribbon, white, for the paidhi, a card which the thoughtful staff had handed out to certain key people. There was the smell of heated wax, a wax-jack waiting in the office for that operation, and immediately lord Geigi and nand’ Borujiri, and a number of other officials came pouring through the door with the news services clamoring outside.

He signed and affixed his seal in wax to cards which would make a proud display on a wall somewhere for not only this generation, but subsequent ones, while his security fumed and clearly wished a quick exit. But there were moments at which haste seemed to create worse problems than apparent lack of it; and they hadn’t yet flung him to the floor and drawn guns, so he supposed it wasn’t critical.

“The car is waiting, nand’ paidhi,” Tano said, the moment the last card was stamped.

Escape lay out the door: the news services hadn’t yet out-flanked them. Algini went out first, surveying the Guild-provided car which procedure had dictated would never leave the personal surveillance of the paidhi’s own security. Tano held the door for him, a living shield against what he had no idea.

For two seconds in that position they were without any locals at all in earshot. “Lord Saigimi is dead,” Tano said to him, low and urgently. “Unknown who did it.”

So thatwas the emergency. Bren took in his breath, and in the next firing of a neuron thought it likely that lord Geigi, stalled on the other side of the same door, was getting exactly the same news from hissecurity.

The lord of the Tasigin Marid, the circle of seacoast at the bottom of the peninsula, was dead, notof natural causes.

The lord of the Tasigin Marid, an Edi, was the one interest in the peninsula most violently opposed to the space program. When Geigi had sided with the space program, and when Deana Hanks had provided the bombshell that weakened him politically, lord Saigimi had immediately insisted that lord Geigi pay his personal debts in oil investment in full, which lord Saigimi expected would ruin lord Geigi and force him from power in Dalaigi.

That had notbeen the case, thanks to Grigiji the astronomer.

Geigi came out the door, sober, dead sober in the manner of an ateva when expression might offend someone. Not displeased by the news, Bren would wager. Possibly—the thought hit him like a thunderbolt—Geigi was even directly involved in the assassination.

No. Geigi wouldn’t. Surely not. Not with the aiji’s representative literally under his roof and apt by that to be thought associated with the event.

“News,” Bren said, resolved on his own instant judgment to ignore suspicion and treat the man as a cohort—as in the following instant he asked himself was Tabiniinvolved—while Tabini’s representative was a guest under lord Geigi’s roof. “Nandi, lord Saigimi has just been assassinated. I’m immediately concerned for your safety; and I mustmake my flight on schedule. I fear events have left me no choice but to attend to business, and place myself where I can interpret to the ship in case theyhave questions. But will you honor me and ride to the airport with me, in my car?”

Geigi’s face bore that slight pallor that an ateva could achieve. Indeed, perhaps Geigi—not involved, and fearing he might be blamed—had been about to cancel the proposed fishing trip as inappropriate under the circumstances, and to offer the use of hiscar for security reasons.

He had, however, just placed the shoe on the other foot.

Offered the man dessert, as the atevi saying went. Meaning the next dish afterthe fatal revelation at dinner.

“Nand’ paidhi,” Geigi said with a decisive nod of his head, “I shall gladly ride with you, and be honored by your company.”

It also was, most definitely, a commitment mutually to be seen in such company: Geigi was casting his lot with the aiji in Shejidan, in case the neighbor lords of the interlaced peninsular association should think of annoying the aiji by striking at the aiji’s prize piece in this province.

Geigi walked with him down the concrete path to the car, a quiet progress of themselves and their respective security personnel. “Do,” Bren said, almost embarrassed to say, “look to nand’ Borujiri’s safety as well, Tano-ji.”

“We have passed that advice to building security,” Tano said as they approached the cars, the centermost of which was his, with others close about it. Tano would in no wise leave him. And somehow Tano had advised building security indeed, probably through Geigi’s security, Gesirimu, while he was signing cards, without him ever noticing. Thatwas how they’d forestalled the news services getting to the outside door.

“Distressing,” lord Geigi said. “I assure the paidhi that no event will threaten his safety. I should be greatly embarrassed if such were the case.”

“I would never wish,” he said to lord Geigi, “to put my host at risk, and please, lord Geigi, never underestimate the value you represent to the aiji. I know that Tabini-aiji would take strong measures in any action against you or yours.”

It was courtly. It was also true. Geigi was getting that ship built. Geigi was the source of stability and employment in the region.

Then as they came close to the road, well-wishers watching from the plant spied them and their company. The plant doors opened, and a crowd came pouring out toward them, waving and offering flowers, accompanied by the news services and the cameras, at which security, his and Geigi’s, definitely looked askance.

But the plant workers seemed to have no inkling that there was a security alert in operation, and atevi polite, expressionless silence during a speech didn’t at all mean restraint once good will was established. There were cheers, there were bouquets tossed at the hand held rope perimeter which hastily moving plant security established. That the flowers landed on the grass and couldn’t be retrieved in no way daunted the well-wishers. The offering was enough, and atevi were used to tight security: the higher the lord, the tighter and more reactive the guard around him.

Bren darted a few meters from the walk to the lawn, stooped and picked up a bouquet himself, as a lord of the Association couldn’t possibly do, but he, the human, he of the white ribbon, he had no such reservations and no great requirement of lordly dignity. He held the bouquet of flowers aloft and waved it at the cheering crowd as Algini and Tano urged him toward the open car door.

But the good will of the commons was his defense as well, and taking such gambles was in some measure his job. The crowd was delighted with his gesture. They shouted and waved the more. It satisfied the news services, who had a good clip of more than people walking to the cars.

Defending him from the consequences of such gestures was of course Tano’s and Algini’s job, and as he and lord Geigi entered the car from opposite sides, Tano entered to assume hisback-facing seat in the capacious rear of the car and Algini took the front seat by the driver. Cars full of security staff preceded them as they pulled out; and more cars would come behind.

“One still extends the invitation,” lord Geigi said. “I know that fish is laughing at us.”

“I look forward,” Bren said, “to the hunt for this fish. I hope for an invitation in the next passage of this reckless creature. I wishI might have had a try this season. I hope you will remember me in the next.”

“One indeed will. Beyond a doubt.”

Clearly Tano and Algini weren’t going to relax until he was out of the province.

But he trusted they had heard the news of the assassination before the news services had heard, unless reporters of the same news services had happened to surround lord Saigimi at the very moment of his death—and then only if they had the kind of communications the Guild had. His security had heard as fast as they had because the agency responsible (or Saigimi’s guard) was electronically plugged into the Assassins’ Guild, which was able to get direct messages to Guild members faster than the aiji’s personal representatives, who weren’t always told what was going on.

And it wasa Guild assassination, or there’d be real trouble. The Guild was a fair broker and a peacekeeper. It might authorize a contract for an assassination to be carried out by one member but it didn’t withdraw resources from other members in good standing who might be defending the intended target. It most severely frowned upon collateral damage– biichi’ji, finesse, was a point of pride of the Guild in authorizing and legally notifying targets as well as in carrying out contracts—and the Assassins’ Guild did pass warnings where warnings were due in order to prevent such damage.

So, of course, did Tabini-aiji pass warnings of his own intent to his own security, who might not be informed by their Guild—even the aiji filed Intent, as he had seen once upon a time. But lords and lunatics, as Tano had once said, didn’t always file, and defense didn’t always know in advance. If Tabini had taken lord Saigimi down, Tano and Algini might possibly know it from Tabini’s sources.

Unless it was Geigi who had done it. He was very conscious of the rather plump and pleasant ateva weighing down the seat cushion beside him, in this car that held the pleasant musky scent of atevi, the size and mass of atevi. It would certainly make sense. Geigi was not the complacent man he’d seemed, and Geigi had shifted loyalties last year awayfrom lord Saigimi’s plots against the aiji.

It made thorough sense that Geigi, with his new resources, had placed Guild members as near Saigimi as he could get them; it was an easy bet that Saigimi had done exactly the same thing in lord Geigi’s district.

So there was very good reason, in the direct involvement of lord Geigi with past events, for the paidhi’s security to be very anxious about that gesture of stopping and picking up the flowers. Sometimes, Bren thought, he had an amazing self-destructive streak.

Geigi leaving his own security to other cars, to sit beside him surrounded by Tabini’s agents, was a declaration of strong reliance on the paidhi and on the aiji in Shejidan; but it also tainted the paidhi and the aiji with collusion if Geigi had done it.

Damn. Surely not. Tabiniknew where he was and what was going on. Tabini’s security wouldn’t let him make that mistake.

Meanwhile all those reporters who had gathered to cover the plant tour were back there to report his inviting lord Geigi under his protection the length and breadth of the peninsula, not to mention reporting the gesture to all the lords of the Association.

Among them, in the Padi Valley to north, was the lady Direiso of the Kadigidi house, who truly did wish the paidhi dead, and who was alive herself only because the power vacuum her death would create could be more troublesome to the aiji than her living presence.

Direiso. Thatwas an interesting question.

3

The cars of the escort passed like toys under the right-hand wing as the private jet made the turn toward home. A bright clot of flowers, more bouquets and wreaths, showed on the concrete where the plane had stood. Now they surrounded a cluster of black car roofs.

So lord Geigi hadn’t driven off once the plane’s doors had closed, nor even during the long wait while the plane had taxied far across to the east-west runway. Geigi had waited to see it in the air.

Even now, a small number of atevi were standing beside the cars, watching the plane, extravagant gesture from a lord of the Association, in a politics in which all such gestures had meaning.

No word for love in the Ragi language, and no word for friend, even a friend of casual sort. Among the operational ironies of the language, or the atevi mind, it rendered it very hard for an ateva in lord Geigi’s situation to make his personal position clear, once there were logical reasons to suspect his associations—because associations colored everything, demanded everything, slanted everything.

Bren found himself quite—humanly speaking– touchedby the display now vanishing below his window, not doubting the plant workers and the common people of the white-plaster township that came up in his view. They were the offerers of those flowers.

But from this perspective of altitude and distance, he was no longer blindly trusting.

Not even of lord Geigi, except as Geigi’s known and unknown associations currently tended toward the same political focus as his own: toward Tabini, aiji of the Western Association, Tabini, who owned this plane, and the security, and the loyalties of lords and commons all across the continent.

Man’chi. Instinctual, not consciously chosen, loyalty. Identical man’chi made allies. There was no other meaningful reckoning.

You couldn’t say that human word ‘border,’ either, to limit off the land passing under them. An atevi map didn’t really have boundaries. It had land ownership—sort of. It had townships, but their edges were fuzzy. You said ‘province,’ and that was closeto lines on a map, and it definitely hada geographical context, but it didn’t mean what you thought it did if you were a hard-headed human official trying to force mainland terms into Mospheiran boxes. So whatever he had experienced down there, it didn’t have edges, as the land didn’t have edges, as overlapping associations didn’t have edges.

A thought like that could, if analyzed, give one solitary human a lonely longing for somethinghe touched to mean something human and ordinary and touch him back, and for something to satisfy the stirrings of affection that good actions made in a human heart.

But ifsomething did, was it real? Was affection real because one side of the transaction felt it, if the other side in responding always felt something different?

The sound of one hand clapping. Was that what he heard?

The plane leveled out to pursue its course to the northeast. Outside the window now were the hills of the southern peninsula, Talidi Province, a geographical distinction, again without firm edges. Beyond that hazy range of hills to the south sat the Marid Tasigin, the coastal communities where lord Saigimi had had greatest influence, which would be in turmoil just now as the word of their lord’s assassination spread.

Out the other window, across the working space on this modest-sized executive jet, he saw only blue sky. He knew what he would see if he got up and took a look: the same shining, wave-wrinkled sea he had seen from Geigi’s balcony, and the same haze on the horizon that was the southern shore of Mospheira.

He didn’t want to get up and look in that direction this afternoon. He’d done too much looking and too much thinking this morning, until, without even thinking about it, he’d rubbed raw a small spot in his sensibilities that he’d thought was effectively numb.