Текст книги "Protector "

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

But Father himself had had a lot of trouble getting staff. The aishid and staff his father had grown up with had died in the coup. The ones he had gotten next had tried to kill him. He had picked distant relatives that he knew he could trust, and now there were a lot of lords andthe Guild upset about it.

Mani’s bodyguards . . . nobody fussed about.

So maybe it was a good thing. Maybe his mother was being very practical. His mother had looked sad and different, now. Her hair very plain, her nails unpolished. Maybe his mother simply did not feel like dressing up, with headaches and all. But her servants had used to do her hair, and press the lace, and the two girls from the kitchen probably could not be trusted with the iron and the lace.

So . . . he had better write a letter and have one of his aishid take it before his mother changed her mind.

He was very careful about it. He had no wish to have everything collapse into another argument from mani’s side. He wrote:

To mani, honored Great-grandmother, from Cajeiri, your Great-grandson. My mother has no staff. She has asked me to write to you asking for help which you offered at the party. She does not feel well now. She particularly wants a hairdresser. She wants a woman who has had a child.

He took a new piece of paper and changed the words: instead of wants,which was rude, he wrote, she particularly wishes to have,and she also wishes to have.

He wrote, after that: I have told my father too and he thinks it is a good idea.

That was hedging the truth a little. But it made a good ending and it might make Great-grandmother curious enough to go along with it.

If Great-grandmother could geta good hairdresser. She might have to fly somebody in from Malguri.

It will make me happy if you can make my mother happy. Please do it.

And then he remembered the whole other business, astonished that it could all have slipped from his mind.

Mani, my guests are coming early, and my father says I shall go to you as soon as you send for me, and you will be in charge of everything we do just as soon as you send for me. My mother wishes the party to be here, in our apartment—but all the days before and after, until my guests go home on the shuttle, I shall be staying with you, or with nand’ Bren if I am inconvenient. I am very happy. I am very much looking forward to this. I shall pack right away.

He revised it in a third copy, just because he had been careless in his penmanship. He wanted it perfect.

Then he dashed off a letter to nand’ Bren, who did not care about his penmanship.

He put the one to mani in his best message cylinder, and sent that one with Lucasi. He put the other in his second-best, and sent it with Veijico.

Then he sat down in his own little sitting room, on the edge of his chair, all happiness, and looked at Antaro and Jegari, who still amazed him, they looked so official and grown-up.

“We are going to stay with Great-grandmother,” he said. “We have to pack. We have to take Boji with us, but Eisi and Lieidi are going with us, too.” He drew a deep, shuddery breath, and let it go. “I think, I think, nadiin-ji, that my birthday is really about to happen.”

10

The Committee on Finance was meeting, and the committee room doors were shut. The paidhi, down the hall in the legislative lounge, was on his second pot of strong tea, while his aishid kept contact with the dowager’s—who were in touch with Tatiseigi’s bodyguard, Tatiseigi being a very important force behind those closed doors, and doing a great deal of talking, on that committee.

Reports came in slowly, by runners who stood at the front of the room and reported succinctly on the progress of the bill. The bill was being read. Again.

He had two of his secretarial staff doing exactly the same thing, from the gallery of the large meeting room, observing not only the progress of the bill, but who was talking to whom that might be significant. The two cycled back to him in turns, bringing him notes, occasionally a whispered word—not the only such runners communicating with individuals in the lounge.

There were motions to table. Again.

Damn, Bren thought. And there was not a thing he could do. The aiji might intervene, as the alleged author of the bill, but even Tabini didn’t have the clout with Finance that the dowager did . . . and she had enemies in that room, too.

And the fact that he, the paidhi had written much of the bill—was notsomething its supporters were advertising to anybody in that conservative-dominated meeting room. One had to wonder if that fact might yet get out and sway votes.

The bill didn’t need any more problems. It was a sensitive matter, the inclusion of the tribal peoples as equals in the aishidi’tat. It meant dismantling the tribes’ special status, giving them a voice in the Bujavid, and releasing, for many of the clans, an ancient prejudice, at least, that held the tribes as foreign to the mainland.

On the other side of the scales, tribal peoples would agree to abandon their independence and their separate languages for official use—the only exception being their own ceremonial and festival observances. It alsoentailed something the conservatives wanted: an agreement to accept operations of all guilds within the former tribal lands, and, by separate agreement with the tribes, they would not insist on tribal peoples serving only their own clan—they would adopt, in essence, the same rule the Ragi clans followed, which it would put Edi and Gan in service in households all across the aishidi’tat. Tatiseigi and the dowager weren’t making any noise about that matter, yet, just letting that separate little bomb skitter through unnoticed.

In effect, if it passed, there would be a fairly rapid blending of the tribal peoples into the mainstream of the aishidi’tat. The centuries-old practice of allowing special, nearly rule-free local branches of some guilds to exist in the Marid, and in sections of the East, was going to be used one last time, to get the tribal peoples within the Guild system—after which the tribes themselves—and the Marid, and the East, would all remove that provision. He didn’t personally like it: that practice had provided the shelter that had let the Shadow Guild get organized, and he wanted it gone.

All in all, it was a very delicate push and pull going on in that chamber, which had started out as a death-trap for the critical bill. The paidhi waited, listened to the official reports, always ready to step in if for some unguessable reason someone wanted to ask him any question that he actually wanted to answer.

But so far, and thank God, no, no one asked. So the legislative lounge, safely removed from the committee rooms, was as close as he had to come to the battleground.

Race, religion, language, finance, and a history of double-crosses and broken promises were all involved. So was the long-simmering issue of the Marid’s ambition to take Sarini Province, and the resentment of the tribal peoples about being settled where they had been settled in the first place, after Mospheira had been ceded to humans—another reason he did not want to be called into that chamber as a district lord.

The next report, delivered by the marshal to the whole lounge, said that motions to table had been denied. Again.

Thank God.

Then—periodic reports by his runners—Tatiseigi again got up to speak, arguing for the necessity of the bill and attaching the approval of his own local Padi Valley Association, the heart of the Ragi district.

The Morisoni lord, of the second largest northern clan, objected and cited the disapproval of the Northern Association, including Ajuri, who was not present, and the disapproval of the Kadagidi, who were also not present, a major clan of the Padi Valley. There were, that lord added, unvoiced objections, and had the gall to suggest the Taibeni lord was absent from the floor because, due to personal links to the aiji’s clan, he would not speak againstthe bill.

The Morisoni lord did not call Tatiseigi a liar. But it was damned close. And one could imagine Lord Tatiseigi was taking notes, in that inscrutable way of his, and meant to have another say.

But Dur got up at that point, the elderLord Dur, bringing with his oral statement the written approval of the Coastal Association.

Then Tatiseigi (the runner arrived fairly bubbling with satisfaction) arose to object to the prior statement, and produced a proxy signed by his former enemy the Taibeni lord, authorizinga vote in favor of the bill. Bren almost wished he had been in the room for thatpiece of theater.

So much for the Morisoni claim as to where the Taibeni stood.

The dowager andTatiseigi spoke, backing the bill, interests at opposite ends of the continent. Geigi’s shy proxy, Lord Haidiri, then got up and offered his own handful of West Coast proxies backing the bill, for Sarini Province, the South Coastal Association, and Najida, which, of course, was Bren.

Hard upon that moment, the dowager produced a document from Lord Machigi, backing the bill in the name of the entire Marid. There was no one to speak for the two embattled northern sections of the Marid.

A motion was then made by the Northern Association, in the person of a western range lord, Ajuri being absent, to addthe objection of the missing two northern clans of the Marid.

Tatiseigi objected, saying it was indecent to use the votes of two regions currently under occupation by the Assassins’ Guild because of subversive activity and attacks on Sarini Province.

Tatiseigi called for a vote. And was observed to be talking in the aisle to three of the opposition.

The motion to add the votes was denied. By two votes.

God, it was a war in there.

Then the opposition tried again to table the bill, which would have killed it.

Lord Tatiseigi, rising, immediately called for a vote on the bill.

Bren called for another cup of tea and wished it were a brandy. He ordinarily did not vote. He wasvoting on this occasion, while sitting in the legislative lounge, not because he was a member of Finance, but because he was a lord in the most affected districts. He had given his proxy to Haidiri, Geigi’s proxy, who had a vote in this business for the same reason, and he had privately urged those in the Liberal caucus, who followed the paidhi-aiji and Lord Geigi, to back the bill with everything they had—with the few members they had on that committee. With the dowager, andthe dowager’s ally, Lord Machigi—and Lord Tatiseigi, the head of the Conservative Caucus, voting withthe Taibeni, another district that usually did not appear in the legislature—the proponents of the tribal bill forced a vote. The vote forvoting on the bill—passed.

Bren did mental math, trying to predict which of the conservatives would stand with the committee head, opposed to the bill, and which might follow Tatiseigi.

The vote was delayed, with a call for a quorum of regions. Certain of the legislators had showed up in the lounge, conferred at extreme leisure, then went back to the floor as the vote progressed, restoring the required quorum.

God. Four of the oldest clans were in the For column, plus all those associations geographically affected by the bill, plus the two largest sub associations on the continent—what more could honest folk want?

But the math, with the smaller regions, in this hostile committee, was still dicey. There was yet another try, this one on the Against side, at tabling the bill for later debate and possible revision, saying it was being rammed through at indecorous speed.

That failed.

Then an amendment was proposed—good God!—from their own ranks: Separti Township’s representative, coming back from a break, wanted a prohibition against the Edi enlarging the port on the Kajiminda Peninsula. It was a not-too-veiled suggestion the Edi, with a larger port, would continue their attacks on Marid shipping, but it came from Separti, whose shipping would be affected by competition, and it came after a break.

Someone had cornered that man. If Geigi were here, he’d back the Separti representative into a convenient corner, exuding dominant man’chi, and make him understand the value of sticking with one’s district in a crisis.

Haidiri was only Geigi’s proxy. He was new to this business, and timid. He should be the one to pull his subordinate district into line, with whatever deals or force he had, and by all reports from the runners, he was asking the marshal what he could do to object.

The amendment, however, failed. Tatiseigi’s sometime ally to the east, beyond the Kadagidi, slipped to Tatiseigi’s side during the recess. With the dowager, andLord Machigi’s proxy—and, belatedly, Separti, who came back to their side—the proponents of the tribal bill mustered a yea vote to prevent any more amendments.

Opposed to the bill were the third-largest association and some of their more remote associates. If the bill could get to the legislative floor—it should have the numbers. But the more obstinate conservatives owned this committee, where the bill was still stuck without a recommendation to pass it.

And now the vice-head of Finance, a rival of Tatiseigi’s, got up to speak.

And speak.

Jago came in and dropped into the vacant leather chair across the little table. He expectednews from the committee room.

It wasn’t.

“The young gentleman,” she began, “has just written the dowager, requesting she supply staff for his mother. And stating that he and his guests will be the dowager’sguests, excepting for the actual birthday festivity itself.”

He was concentrating so hard on the committee matter it took several heartbeats for the words even to make sense.

And another several for the implications to snap together into a structure.

Are you serious? The question occurred to him, at least. But Jago, on duty, was alwaysserious.

“Have youarranged this?” he asked. Plural. Meaning any of his bodyguard.

“The request,” Jago said, “came in the boy’s own hand, from him. He states that his mother made the suggestion and his father has approved.”

His motherrequested staff of Ilisidi. He’d have sworn there was no way in hell Damiri would want that clan attending her.

And Tabini had agreed. When there was no way in hell Tabini had wanted his grandmothergetting information from inside his household.

“What,” he asked Jago, with his mind suddenly jittering between the committee situation, the aiji’s admittedly dicey security situation—and that remarkable set of interactions at the reception, “whatprecisely is going on, Jago-ji? Do youhave any idea?”

Someone walked past. Jago leaned forward, nearly forehead to forehead and whispered, to avoid being overheard in this cavernous and treacherous room. “Cenedi received the message, couriered by Lucasi. He had Casimi bring the letter to us, rather than transmit anything. Cenedi wishes to know if youhad mediated this move, Bren-ji.”

“No,” he whispered back. “Not officially nor privately. I am as surprised as anyone.”

“Indeed. Banichi suggests Damiri-daja may actually be the prime force behind this request. Considering her appearance at the reception, she will politicwith Lord Tatiseigi and send him signals. But she will not request staff of him.”

The green and white dress. When Jago put it in the context of holding out promises to Tatiseigi, but not taking staff from him, it made a certain sense. Tabini himself was not going to go to his grandmother begging favors: he had rather be roasted over a slow fire. But what had Damiri said at the reception? Everyone in this hall has attempted to place servants on my staff . . .

Evidently Damiri had added two and two and come up with a way in which she could avoid being tributary to her uncle—namely allying herself with the one person on earth whom Tatiseigi deferred to without reservation or embarrassment: the aiji-dowager. Accepting anyother offer would offend Tatiseigi, who was a connection Damiri had to preserve. The dowager, seeing the situation, had apparently offered her an alternative. And now he had a farbetter idea what Ilisidi had said to Damiri that night.

Hell, yes, it was a good move. It positioned Damiri not as an Atageini hanger-on, dependent on her uncle, nor as Tabini’s almost-divorced consort; nor yet as Lord Komaji’s alienated and, through most of her life, unwantedAtageini daughter—

The marriage with Damiri had been a match of sexual attraction, in Tabini’s case, with more attention to her Padi Valley connections than to an undistinguished father in a fairly minor northern clan.

But if Damiri suddenly became a close ally of the aiji-dowager, the one force on earth who held her own toe to toe with Tabini himself . . . it was damned certain Damiri saw something to gain.

If Damiri hadmentally and emotionally gotten past the alienation of her son—and started thinking in a practical way of her own future, and of her soon-to-be-born daughter’s future—

Damn. He had been watching one hand while the otherhad been moving. It was not an unknown situation in the aiji’s court, but he rarely these days found himself so blindsided.

“Interesting,” he said. In the legislative sitting room, with an attendant now moving within earshot, replacing a pot of tea, it was all he could say. “Jago-ji, keep me informed.”

So Tabini was going to send Cajeiri and his foreign guests to his great-grandmother’s very conservative, very traditional house—the mediaeval stronghold of Malguri.

His whimsical revenge on his grandmother—for his having to accept Malguri servants in his house?

No. Affairs of state might occasionally have petty motives, but there was deeper purpose when it regarded security. Tabini’s household, with a crisis between Tabini and his consort, was notthe best place for a collection of clueless and provocative human children.

He had expected to be the one called in to assist with the event. He had expected to house the heir’s young guests, as the person who could actually talkto them and educate them in protocols before they made any really serious mistakes. No doubt he would still serve in that capacity—though the dowager andCenedi and others of her staff actually understood ship-speak, a fact she was never going to advertise.

Tabini played excellent chess. One should never forget that fact. So did Damiri.

And so did the aiji-dowager.

God, he could almost see the pathways of it. But some of these winding trails had twolayers. At least two.

Jago left him, and he was sure she would be back. The sitting room attendant had provided a fresh pot of tea, poured a cup and took the cooling pot away. Tea was an unending resource, once one had ordered a pot.

News came, finally, not with Jago’s return, but with the gentleman with a long pole and a hook, who, in the traditional manner, reached up on the wall to the framed agenda board, and slid bill number 2823 over to the right, into the slot for the hasdrawad.

The tribal bill had just passed committee, by a vote of 43 to 41.

Bren let out a long, slow breath.

Passed. Now the legislature would debate the tribal bill, presumably would pass it—and the paidhi did not officially want to hear the reasoning behind some of the yes votes it would draw: the expectation that both tribal peoples would be swallowed up in large regional associations where they would be junior, small, and never, ever have any political force.

That expectation didn’t take into account that little bomb in the package, the business with the guilds.

And given the character of the Grandmother of the Edi, and Her of the Gan, he had every confidence the tribal peoples would not fade into quiet compliance. He only hoped the Grandmothers would appoint two of the quieter voices actually to sit in the legislature. He could not imagine themin that committee room.

So with all the potential troubles yet to come—the bill had now gotten to the floor, and it, thank God, had the votes to pass.

He felt like celebrating. He considered giving the whole staff the next day off and just sleeping in.

Then the representative of the Messengers’ Guild brought over the official bowl for the sitting room, and in it was one black cylinder with a red seal.

Word from Tabini.

He absently poured himself yet one more cup of tea for reinforcement and cracked the seal with a thumbnail, expecting something about the bill—or the security arrangements.

It said, beyond the usual salutations:

Remember our conversation. This is that moment. My son is going to my grandmother, who will host his guests and handle all events up to the festivity.

Following a heated discussion in which my wife concluded the world does not contain a hairdresser who can pass both security considerations and her requirements, my wife has applied to my grandmother for staff and my grandmother has just agreed. I am sure you will not need to tell your bodyguard, but should it have escaped notice, confirm it for them.

It must have been a message passed to the committee room. With all thatgoing on. God.

The tribal bill, I am assured, will clear committee today. The cell phone bill will be tabled as we have requested, to be brought up in some future session. The resolution in favor of the Marid agreement will likely pass.

My wife is having recurrent dreams that there are strangers in the house. I am not superstitious, but she has wanted the kabiu of the house adjusted, and she does not sleep well. She takes alarm at bumps in the night and our son’s parid’ja will occasionally cry out in the daytime, which does not improve her feeling of danger. Therefore I am sending the animal with my son and his guests, while my wife and I resolve our difficulties regarding staff and security, which will likely involve more than a hairdresser.

I leave it to my grandmother and to you as to where to entertain these children. My son will celebrate his birthday here in Shejidan, where both his parents can properly congratulate him. He may at that time avail himself of the museum and the natural history exhibit as well as the services of the Bujavid staff, provided that we shall have been able to arrange adequate security.

Careful thought persuades me that my wife’s decision, which we wish understood, is entirely her own, has moved the household expediently toward the best source of auxiliary security available.

The new arrangement will entail a hairdresser, and added security, and we are confident this is the best solution.

This letter is not for the official archive of our correspondence. We request you burn it and preserve no word of it.

You may of course rely on the red car and all official assistance in dealing with the visitors.

In caring for my son, care also for your own safety and my grandmother’s. These are unsettled times. But when have they not been?

Deep, deep breath. He read it again to be sure of the nuance. And put the letter back into the cylinder and the cylinder into his most secure pocket, to have it dealt with by his aishid.

His problem. Tabini was giving himthe children. He had to refocus.

He gathered up his work, had the attendant notify whoever of his bodyguard was at the door at the moment, and walked out.

Banichi smoothly intercepted him.

“The shuttle has launched from the station, Bren-ji,” Banichi said, before he could say anything. “It is on its way.”

•   •   •

He waited until they got upstairs, into the foyer of their own apartment, and only Narani was witness. Narani took his coat, and his case of papers.

And offered the message bowl, in which there was one cylinder he well knew.

Cajeiri.

“I shall read this,” he said, “in my office. Banichi-ji, nadiin-ji, if you will be there.”

“Yes,” Banichi said.

They walked back to the office. Bren gave them Tabini’s letter, with its cylinder, then sat down in his work chair, opened Cajeiri’s cylinder, unrolled the little paper and flattened it under a heavy glass designed for that purpose.

It said, To Nand’ Bren, from Cajeiri,

I am very happy. I am coming to visit you and mani as soon as you send for me. I am supposed to be in mani’s apartment, but she is busy in meetings. Will you come get me until she can?

PS. I have to take Boji with me. He eats eggs. About four a day.

He looked at his aishid. “The boy is still at home. He wants to come here now. His father’s standing order is that whenever he wishes to come here, I should not delay him. Banichi, Jago—go get him. Quietly. One does not know what the situation is over there.”

“Yes,” Banichi said.

Tano and Algini stayed, and Banichi and Jago shut the door behind them.

“Likely we shall be housing the human children until the birthday festivity,” he said, “and Cajeiri will have Boji with him—one hopes, withhis cage. We may be somewhat disrupted, but we will manage. Please advise Cenedi of whatever of the situation he might not have heard. About Boji, among other things.”

“Yes,” Algini said. And added, “We shall arrange for the red car, for the spaceport, when the shuttle is ready to land. Either we or the dowager will need to pick up the children.”

“Do that, Gini-ji.” He let go a slow breath, thinking of that conversation he had had with Tabini, about problems in the household, and about his own subsequent conversation with Damiri. The dowager hadhad tea with Damiri, the morning after—but as to the outcome between those two, his aishid had not been able to tell him. So either Cenedi didn’t know what the two women had said to each other—or wouldn’t say, even to them. “As to what may be happening next door, with Tabini-aiji and Lady Damiri, one has no idea. One hopes for a good outcome.”

“We are surprised the boy is sent out on such short notice,” Tano said. “Shall we contact the aiji’s guard and ask the reason?”

“Discreetly,” he said.

“You will wear the vest, Bren-ji,” Algini said. “Lord Geigi has moved a shuttle off-schedule to provide a shortened time frame—for any plans Ajuri might make.”

“He has said so?” He was astonished. Shuttles delayed at times, on technical issues. They rarely rushed a launch to be early.

“On our advice, Bren-ji. We requested he move the schedule. He said he would attempt it. He has put Paisienup in the flight order, ahead of Shai-shan.There are no passengers listed on the manifest for Paisien.There are four listed for Shai-shan.The manifests will stay as they are, so bothlie.”

Five days early.

Early. To throw off any plans Ajuri had laid, and disrupt any mischief.

“One understands,” he said. “We have the legislation as settled as we can manage. We are assured it will pass. We can go wherever we need go.”

If Tabini could somehow find the time alone with Damiri to sort out the problems within his household, all to the good. It might be the best timing—at least to have Cajeiri elsewhere.

In the meanwhile, given the boy suddenly on hishands, and the dowager rearranging her plans, there were things to do.

It started with phoning his own clerical office, commending the runners who had served him today, and asking the director to come meet with him in his apartment.

Tea with the worthy gentleman, who had served him under some very dicey circumstances, including during the coup.

He would instruct the man to lay down a preliminary official schedule that looked—at least until they were out at the spaceport picking up Cajeiri’s guests—as if the paidhi-aiji were doing business as usual.

It was a minimal sort of ruse, one they could adjust by the hour, and it might end up being one of several such schedules he let leak, but he thought it prudent.

He also had to arrange with Lord Dur, quietly, to have that very respectable gentleman attend the Tribal Peoples bill on its course through the legislature, and advise his office of events.

Then he notified Bindanda that the young gentleman was dining with them, that the dowager might be. And that they needed a supply of eggs.

•   •   •

He had only time to draft the first half of his message to Dur before he heard Narani open the front door.

That would be Banichi and Jago, with the young gentleman in hand. There might or there might not be baggage. If there was not, if the young gentleman were quitting his residence in a Situation, his staff might have to go next door a little later and collect it from Tabini’s staff.

Well, it sounded, out there, that there was something more arriving than the usual luggage cart, something that rolled and rattled in an odd way. He guessed what thatmight be, even before he heard a sudden blood-curdling shriek in his foyer.

Doors opened and closed and staff stirred from every recess of the servants’ halls, startled out of whatever they were doing.

He left his letter unfinished, capped the inkwell, and blew out the waxjack before he rose and opened his office door.

There in his foyer was the boy and a very large antique cage.

“Nand’ Bren, we are here!” Cajeiri said. “And Boji.” There was an earsplitting shriek. “We are sorry about Boji. He is excited.”

Tano and Algini came from the security station. The sitting room door opened, the young kitchen girls peering past the junior cook, who had arrived with one of the kitchen knives in hand.

There were, with Cajeiri, with their baggage, but still partly outside the doors, the young gentleman’s bodyguard and two servants in Ragi livery.

“These two young men are—” Bren asked.

“My servants, nandi.” Another bow, more nicely delivered. “We are all here! We are so glad! One is grateful!”

“Well, well, your great-grandmother will decide where you will stay this evening, and in what state.” He almost added, And who will house Boji and the servants, but he feared he already knew that answer. “She has been all day in a meeting, and one does expect she will be getting out of it about now, but you may at least settle long enough for tea and cakes, shall you not? Ladi-ji, if you will move the cage into the guest room for now.” The latter to Jeladi. He feared for the antique carpet runner, and feared an escape with the door still open, but the sitting room was a far worse choice, considering the vases.

Meanwhile baggage was inbound, Narani and Jeladi, Cajeiri’s servants, and his young bodyguard all handing it in, more and more of it piling up in the foyer. “Welcome,” he said to all and sundry, and to Narani: “Tea for myself and the young gentleman. Advise the dowager’s bodyguard and say that the dowager would be welcome for a modest and informal supper here, should she wish.”