Protector: Foreigner #14 (26 page)

Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.

It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji—but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.

He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble—but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and
that
meant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.

Ilisidi
hadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.

“Recommendations, nadiin-ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.

“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.

There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.

Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger—or weaker—leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.

Damiri?

If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.

They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.

There was a chair ready for him, point of a triangle with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. He sank onto it. There was no preamble, no formality of a tea service. It had gone straight into a business discussion.

“My great-grandson has been informed,” Ilisidi said. “I shall call him into private conference and we shall talk. Lest you ask, we had nothing to do with this, paidhi. Nor did our host. About my grandson, or any other, we have no information.”

“We do not believe it is in any sense your grandson’s action, aiji-ma,” Cenedi said. “We are less sure about Damiri-daja, but we do not think it likely. We believe it
is
within Ajuri clan. That it should have happened, we find
somewhat
surprising, aiji-ma, but not greatly so—if it resulted from Komaji’s actions in the capital. Many in the clan have not been satisfied with Lord Komaji’s leadership. His foray southward could have lost him man’chi. In that case, a new leadership will have to establish its policies and choose its enemies. We do not even know that it was a Guild assassination, or if so, if there was a Filing.”

“This is an uncommon lack of information,” Tatiseigi said, and Bren took in a slow breath and kept his mouth shut on the things he knew, which, at least to his knowledge, Tatiseigi did
not
know—close links between the Kadagidi and Ajuri. The significance of Haikuti being assigned to the Kadagidi.

That hypothetical administrator sitting inside the Guild, arranging his chess pieces about the board . . . would
not
want
Damiri
sitting in Komaji’s place, asking questions about Ajuri’s actions and Ajuri’s shaky finances . . . and least of all would he want her asking into Ajuri’s staffing.

“The outlook for our situation here, Nedi-ji?”

A nod. “Improved, in the near term, aiji-ma. We cannot answer for the choice the clan itself may make. We are still uncertain whether Lord Komaji had any idea that Tatiseigi is here, or that you and the young gentleman and his guests are not, as generally advertised, in Malguri. Popular speculation on the assassination is more likely to center on your grandson and the consort—and a belief that the aiji has acted without Filing may raise some debate and a demand for a Guild investigation, which would come to nothing. More worrisome, the aiji’s other enemies, known and unknown, may take alarm and reassess their security, fearing the aiji might have thrown aside Guild rules altogether and decided to act against them. The aiji’s choice of bodyguards
is
an ongoing issue with his detractors. His most dangerous enemies care less about the principle of Guild rules than about the aiji’s increasing ability to deny them information—and we
have
cut them off, we believe. In the last few days we have silenced every trickle of real information and substituted certain things that we have loosed like dye into a water source—to find out where it resurfaces. We have already seen results from that. But then—Komaji is killed, amid this silence
we
have created. The ones who killed Komaji know who killed Komaji, but certain of our enemies do
not
know, and the warier among them may no longer trust what information they do get.”

Ilisidi nodded as she listened, her hand atop the cane set before her, fingers moving in a slow, even rhythm. Tatiseigi had shut down all expression. But Ilisidi—only listened.

“Well,” she said. “Well-stated, Nedi-ji. We do not think, Tati-ji, that Damiri-daja has any intention of taking the lordship in Ajuri.”

“One would hope not, aiji-ma!”

“And if Ajuri retreats from threatening Tirnamardi,” Ilisidi said, “we are glad. Have
you
any word, Bren-nandi? Have you spoken to my great-grandson?”

“He has gone upstairs with his aishid, aiji-ma, and so has Jase-aiji. Jase-aiji is able to contact Lord Geigi, and will advise him, by means we do not believe our enemies can intercept, let alone interpret. My aishid will know the details.” He was not about to say, in front of Tatiseigi, that Lord Geigi, of all people, could look down from the heavens and tell the condition of Tirnamardi’s roof tiles. It was enough that Tatiseigi had Taibeni camped on his grounds.

“We have some concern, aiji-ma, nandiin,” Cenedi said, “about the Kadagidi’s reception of this news—not impossible that they had something to do with it, since a threat to Tirnamardi would call on them, as members of the Padi Valley Association, to come to Tirnamardi’s aid—”

“Never mind they were the last brigands to shell my house!” Tatiseigi said, then, more quietly: “Forgive me, Cenedi-nadi, but our old enemies the Taibeni have earned more Atageini trust in recent years than our Kadagidi cousins, and we have finally written it on paper and put a seal to it. One does not believe the Kadagidi are pleased with that turn of events, and they will not trouble themselves to assist us. Now, if they thought doing away with Komaji would please the aiji and win them a way back to
court,
well,
that
I would believe, but again—they cannot simply reach out and assassinate the man! There would have to be a Filing against Komaji, and as irritating as the man had become to most of his neighbors, even his own household, we have not heard of any Filing.”

“That is exactly the question, nandi,” Cenedi said. “We are not surprised lately when, in this contest of wills between the Guild Council and the aiji, the
aiji’s
bodyguard fails to get notifications—but when
the aiji himself
does not get advance notice of a Filing being voted on, and of the outcome of that vote? There need to be answers to this death, nandiin, if the answers do not point convincingly to a non-Guild killer.”

Failure to notify a target and those living with him . . . violated the Guild’s charter with the aishidi’tat.

One citizen killing another, without due process? Except in self-defense—in which case one could bring any resource one owned against the attacker—a civilian killing was simple
murder,
be it someone bypassing the Assassins’ Guild, or an Assassin using his Guild-trained skills to kill without a Filing in effect.

If there
was
no Filing in Komaji’s case—there might be
proof
of what had been going on inside the Guild. And, damn, it would be a risk sending anybody up there to investigate. It had happened in the territory of an Ajuri dependent. The likelihood that any Guild action would be covered and any witnesses silenced was—unfortunately—a hundred percent.

Frustrating. A crime, in every sense, and they could not make a move in that direction.

Adding to the frustration, it was entirely possible that the Kadagidi lord, right next door, who might not know who was at Tirnamardi, might well know
exactly
what had just happened up north of them. Tatiseigi’s suggestion the Kadagidi might assassinate the Ajuri lord if it could get them back into Tabini’s good graces—

It would not have that effect, not an assassination without that vital Filing of Intent.

Was some paper going to turn up to try to make it legal? Did they think Tabini-aiji, whose signature would
make
it legal, would quietly accept an outright false record, just because there was an advantage to his administration and his household in having Komaji out of the way? He could easily imagine Tabini signing such a document after the fact—for reasons of life, death, and the safety of the aishidi’tat. But
not
to make allies out of the Kadagidi, not even to patch a vital part of the Padi Valley back into union with its neighbors.

Initially, Tabini had isolated the Kadagidi and forbidden its lord to come to court for security reasons, because it was Murini’s clan, and they were still hunting Murini and his supporters. That ruling had never meant that the Kadagidi townsmen and shopkeepers and country folk were all murderers. Tabini had actually intended to lift the ban . . .

. . . until he’d gotten a dire warning from Cenedi—Bren strongly suspected it had come from Cenedi, or possibly from Algini, who had his own accesses into the problems Murini had left behind.

That
 . . . was the business they were going to have to deal with in very short order, once they’d gotten Cajeiri’s guests headed safely back to orbit. There was a strong possibility their problems inside the Guild, and particularly in Kadagidi clan, planned to launch another coup—eventually. If Komaji’s moves had put the Shadow Guild into a crisis . . . if they’d feared Tabini or Damiri, having defeated Komaji’s attack, might make a move on Ajuri, might get their hands on him, ask him questions, and then find records that led to the Kadagidi’s doorstep . . .

That
was the situation their enemies couldn’t let happen.

That
was the motive for Komaji’s assassination. He was sure of it.

One of the chess pieces overthrown. Others were still on the board. The Kadagidi would still be worried about records Komaji might have left . . . and about what the aiji knew.

Komaji had borrowed money from Damiri . . . because of a financial difficulty he had gotten into. He had tried to get into Tabini’s residence, as he had said, to see his grandson. He had behaved with increasing irrationality, acting like a man in a rising panic, for reasons that would not make sense unless one knew what pressure had been brought to bear on him.

Had Komaji decided to change sides and spill everything? Was that why he’d been so desperate to get into Tabini’s apartment? If that was the case, once banished, he’d be in extreme danger—and ironically, the fact Tabini had cast him out would be a comfort to the Shadow Guild, an indication Komaji had not yet talked. And talking—would have been Komaji’s only way to save himself. His best and only hope would be to gather his nerve, enlist the nearest person to Tabini that he could personally reach from his isolation in Ajuri—and that was his former brother-in-law, his old adversary—his daughter’s uncle. Tatiseigi. Tatiseigi would have been Komaji’s way to get a message to Tabini. And that Komaji hadn’t reached Tatiseigi—was now Tatiseigi’s protection.

He didn’t say a thing about the hypothesis that had just assembled itself in his mind, predicated as it was on information he wasn’t actually supposed to possess, and on pure speculation, but damned if he wouldn’t discuss it with his aishid at the first opportunity.

Tatiseigi had ordered strong tea, and the servants went about pouring it, which ended discussion for a time. It took a time to empty a cup—but there was not a second cup asked for. Ilisidi set hers down with a click, Tatiseigi did, and Bren quietly put his down a third unfinished.

“We shall proceed with the holiday, nandiin,” Ilisidi said. “We shall be alert. We shall trust, pending further movements in our direction, that our precautions are enough and Ajuri will have to settle its own difficulties in due time. Not today. Not tomorrow. But they
will
be settled.”

That walk about the reception hall . . .

There had
not
already been some discussion of Ajuri’s situation, between the dowager and Damiri—had there?

T
here was no word of what was going on in the world. Antaro said they were ordered not to use the communications unit. Lucasi and Veijico had gone downstairs a while ago to try to find out what they could from house security. They had told Eisi to keep the door locked. It had been a while, and still they had not come back.

Cajeiri could see his guests were worried, though he tried to assure them they were safe here and that he was perfectly fine—Antaro and Jegari still had their sidearms, that they had worn on the ride, and any danger was far, far off to the north.

Footsteps approached the door. Antaro and Jegari got up. Cajeiri thought it might be Lucasi and Veijico, but it sounded wrong. A knock came, and someone tried the door.

Then Jase-aiji identified himself and his bodyguard, and
that
was all right. Eisi glanced back for permission, and Cajeiri nodded. Eisi unlocked the door and let them in.

“We know nothing useful,” Jase-aiji said, first off. “Except that nand’ Bren is downstairs with your great-grandmother, young gentleman, and Lord Tatiseigi, and one expects they are finding out all the details.” Then, in ship-speak: “The young lord’s grandfather is dead, his mother’s father, a lord in the north of the continent. Understand, the grandfather has been a threat. He had been told not to come back to Shejidan. Ever. But he was the lord of a northern clan, head of a major association. Someone killed him, and we need to know who did it, and why, and whether it was a personal feud or something to do with the government. Don’t expect the young lord to be upset about it. It was not a close relationship. Beyond that, just accept that this is one of those instances where our way of thinking and the atevi way of thinking are very different, and just carry on as if nothing had happened.”

“We’re not going to have to leave, are we?” Irene asked.

Cajeiri wondered that, too . . . not that they could leave the planet, but he did not want to leave Tirnamardi, and Jeichido, and all, and above all he did
not
want to have another war break out. It was his birthday in just a few days, and he did not want a war and he was furious at his grandfather, who had done his best to be inconvenient just one more time.

He was scared that it might turn out it was his mother who had done it, and that would make his father mad, and when they went back to the Bujavid for his birthday festivity, it was all going to come out right in front of his guests.

He was furious, but he did not think he ought to try to explain that to his guests. It all went back too far.

He could hardly stand it. He walked over to stand by the window, which made him not have to listen to Jase-aiji telling his guests everything was fine. A little breeze stirred the curtains, bringing a little welcome cold into the room—they had come in overheated and warm from exercise, and they had not even gotten a chance for their baths.

Antaro and Jegari came over near him, instinctive move—which helped a bit.

Jase-aiji was wrong that he was not upset. He
was
upset. He was very worried that all of this was going to upset his guests and make it so they would never, ever want to come down here again.

He was
damned mad.
That was what nand’ Bren would say.

“Young gentleman,” Jase-aiji said.

He took a deep breath, put on his best face, as mani would tell him to do, and was quite calm when he turned around.

“Nandi?”

“We shall be down the hall,” Jase-aiji said. “If you need us.”

“Thank you,” he said. Thank you was in order. Jase-aiji had certainly taken the trouble to look in on them. “We shall be fine.”

Jase-aiji and his guard left. Eisi shut and locked the door . . . which made the room feel less like a fortress than a prison.

“We
are
sorry,” Artur said in Ragi.

“I am fine,” he said. “Thank you, nadiin-ji.” He wanted a distraction. He went over to Boji’s cage. Boji had not trusted strange people in the room. He was rocking back and forth, clinging to the perch, and looking upset too.

He took Boji’s harness and leash from the little hook at the corner, and opened up the door to put it on. Boji started to get right onto his arm, then balked and wanted to smell his hand and his sleeve—of course: Boji smelled the mecheita, and licked his hand, finding it curious, and a little upsetting.

He had the harness. He slipped it over Boji’s head and under his chest and very quickly did the little buckle that secured it, keeping the leash in his last two fingers as he did. Boji fidgeted, Boji bounced around and chittered at him, bounced from him to the cage top.

Boji was an excellent distraction. His guests came over to see Boji, and he called for an egg and let Irene feed it to him.

Boji liked that. He even sat on Irene’s shoulder, and she gave an anxious laugh and flinched as Boji grabbed her loose hair.

They were rescuing Irene from Boji’s grip when a knock came at the door.

This time it was nand’ Bren and his aishid, and they came in.

“Nandi, nadiin,” nand’ Bren said. “You had the news about your grandfather, nandi.”

“He was assassinated, nandi. That was what we heard.” Boji had climbed onto his shoulder, and he held the leash with enough slack to let Boji bound over to his cage top, where Boji liked to sit at times. “Was it in Ajuri?”

“In a tributary clan’s territory. We still do not know the reason, or the person who ordered it—perhaps some quarrel inside Ajuri. We see no reason to be concerned at present. This could change, but your great-grandmother sees no reason to change the security level here or to make any alterations in plans.”

He let go a breath, much, much happier at that news. It was a little odd to think that Grandfather was no longer in the world at all—but evidently his mother had
not
Filed on her father, and he could not imagine that his father had done it—he was, for a few days, still only infelicitous eight, but he knew enough of the politics to know that
two
actions against his grandfather in a very short number of days was inelegant, and his father had just taken one extreme action in throwing him and all the Ajuri staff out of the Bujavid.

No, his father wouldn’t have done it, not without extreme provocation, and if that were the case, nand’ Bren would tell him.

So there would be a new lord of Ajuri. He hoped it was not going to be his mother.

But that was all too complicated to talk about in front of his guests.

“Is my mother still with my father?” he asked. That was what he wanted to know, and that would tell him everything.

Likely nand’ Bren knew exactly what he was asking, and Bren answered quite cheerfully: “Yes, young gentleman, and they both are safe.”

The way he said it, and the way he added that second part was a relief. He hoped it was the truth.

But nand’ Bren was particularly bad at lying, and rarely tried to. And nand’ Bren had come from talking to mani and Great-uncle, so he knew the latest, and nand’ Bren’s bodyguard was usually very well-informed.

He thought then, If Mother did not do this, Great-grandmother could have. Moving us all out here and moving all these bodyguards in, getting Great-uncle to deal with the Taibeni . . .

Boji grabbed the tail end of his queue ribbon, which Boji sometimes untied, a trick he knew got immediate attention.

“Stop that!” He was immediately at disadvantage, and Boji, sitting on the cage, had him caught.

Nand’ Bren, amused, reached out to intervene. “Is he going to bite me, young gentleman?”

“He does not, often.” He was annoyed and amused at once, and he could not, even by twisting his body, get at Boji’s hand. Nand’ Bren’s reach, however, frightened Boji, who let go and bounded across the cage top, rattling it all the way.

“Boji! Behave.” He still had the end of the leash, which had a clip, and secured the leash onto the sturdy metal fretwork of the cage. “Stay there, and hush, Boji.”

Boji, who regarded no authority, chittered at him.

His ribbon was probably a sad thing, since the ride, and now Boji’s attentions.

“Are we to be let out now, nandi?” he asked. “We have not gotten our baths.”

“By all means. We have the bath at our end, you have this one, and one is certain your guests will by no means be insulted if Eisi guides them to the servant baths on this floor and the next above. Everyone will feel better. And if we are not all too sore to walk tomorrow, we shall take another ride.”

He brightened entirely. “One hopes so, nand’ Bren! One really hopes so.”

“There should be a light late lunch, served to the room. Staff is getting to work. Enjoy your guests. There will be music tonight: I understand your great-uncle has arranged it. And there should be nothing to trouble you. Your great-grandmother is determined that nothing will spoil your time here.”

“One is grateful,” he said, and Bren bowed and headed for the door, stopping to have a word with Eisi and Lieidi, probably about the baths, and Banichi and Jago had been talking to Antaro and Jegari, probably about security.

But they were all right. He felt a great deal better, after what nand’ Bren had said. Great-grandmother was
determined
that he should have his birthday, no matter what. Nobody had ever quite put him at the top of priorities, not even his father and mother. He was quite struck by the notion of having someone like mani protecting what
he
wanted and bent on having that happen.

Boji had come back to the cage edge. He absently stroked Boji’s head and scratched his cheek, which got a happy clicking sound out of Boji, who had quite settled down.

“Eisi-ji,” he said, “Ledi-ji, we shall all need baths, did nand’ Bren explain about that? We shall be happy to use the servant baths if we may. A maid to attend Irene-nadi. And then we shall meet back here and have lunch.” He saw his guests much more cheerful. “We are promised we are all quite safe, and there is no trouble at all.”

•   •   •

Baths were a very good place for a quiet discussion, and Bren and Jase sat and soaked in the communal bath.

Banichi was in attendance, at the moment—guarding the door and assuring their privacy even from trusted staff, so that discussion was not a problem.

A few more details had come in. Komaji had been moving south, toward Atageini territory. The Taibeni had moved to within striking distance, while staying within Taibeni territory, and not made any secret of it. That threatened Komaji. Komaji had begun to move, not toward, but away from that encounter.

And, as he was getting into a small bus, one of four vehicles, the bus and three trucks, involved in the movement, he had been struck down by one very accurate shot. No one else had been hit. No one had seen the shooter.

It could have been Taibeni. There was no reason for the Taibeni lord
not
to have done it, no consequence but a continuation of a two-hundred-year-old feud if he
declared
he had done it, and the Taibeni had no desire at all to make peace with Ajuri clan.

But the Taibeni lord had hastily informed both Shejidan and the units assigned here at Tirnamardi that Taibeni had
not
done it, and that he believed the style of the assassination, a shot from a small woods, was deliberately arranged to make it appear they had.

Bren personally laid his bets on the Taibeni telling the truth, particularly as it would look very bad to make such a move right now, while they had members of their clan sitting encamped on Tatiseigi’s grounds. If they were going to do it, it would have been better politics to wait until the aiji’s son was not also sitting in Tatiseigi’s house. The messiness of that move—no. Even the Taibeni’s several enemies would not believe it.

That still left a lengthy list of those who
would
have done it, quite cheerfully.

“Lady Damiri,” Bren said out of that thought, “is pretty well out of the question.
Her
bodyguard was dismissed. They
could
still be suspect, operating on her behalf, possibly on orders given before their dismissal, but we actually suspect they were reporting to Komaji. Her current staff is the dowager’s.” That was no guarantee, he thought. “She has been upset, but she would not
act
for emotional reasons, not on that scale. I think we can eliminate any of Tabini’s house, our host—”

“The dowager herself?” Jase asked quietly. “That has to be asked.”

“Perfectly possible,” Bren said, “except there’s no reason for
her
to deny it. And not without a proper Filing.”

“If it’s an in-clan action, policy says I’m not officially interested.” Deep breath. “Humanly speaking—I’m entirely damned curious. How many Ajuri lords is that, just in the last decade?”

“Going on four,” Bren said. “The succession in Ajuri is a problem. Has
been
a problem for generations. You can see why Tabini doesn’t want Damiri under that roof, and he damned sure doesn’t want his son taking the lordship. That’s Komaji’s whole branch. His half brother died, likely with help, without an heir, so it’s the end of that entire line, except for a handful of females who lack the disposition and backing to rule. It
has
to go to a completely new branch now. There are two, and it may be a noisy transition.”

Far, far too noisy, Komaji. From his highly dubious ascension, to his equally dubious ending. He had started out doing very well for Ajuri clan—a little too ambitious, perhaps, and then far
too
ambitious, culminating in that final, jealousy-driven assault on Tabini’s apartments, damaging to the clan’s interests, possibly for years to come.

If there were records left in Ajuri—he’d bet those were already ashes.

“Politics,” Jase said. “But you think we’re safe.”

“Physically safe.” Bren said. “Nothing’s crossing the hedge. Nothing’s passing the gate. And down here, your problems generally come in two dimensions, not three. We’re all right. Or at least—all right enough.”

“Two dimensions.” Jase shook his head. “But with far more cover.”

•   •   •

Lunch was mid-afternoon, very late, after their baths, and served in the suite rather than down in the dining rooms, but it was good, and they could sit in their casual clothes and be comfortable—even if they were all a little sore in places it was not polite to mention.