Destroyer

Banichi replied: Tatiseigi is ambitious. This has never changed. One doubts he would harm the dowager, but he would seize the upper hand if he could get it. Moving the heir out of his reach would mean the boy would not return to Tatiseigi unless the dowager sent for him.

His turn. Has she agreed with Cenedi? Has she asked this of us?

Banichi nodded.

He wrote: And it has to be done now, if it is to be done.

Another nod.

He wrote: If my letter is to go out, it must go within the hour, it seems, or risk falling afoul of her plans. Is there no way to persuade the lord and the dowager to work together?

Banichi and Jago exchanged a look, and then Jago took the computer.

We have argued strongly with Cenedi to defend this house and not to make this assault into Kadigidi territory. Cenedi believes this house is ultimately indefensible and that it is safer to carry the attack to the Kadigidi rather than to rely on the lord’s antiquated equipment. We believe that his making this attack will be a fatal error, but we expect the dowager will allow it. She generally yields to Cenedi in such affairs. The security deficits are demonstrable, a surprise even to Cenedi, and we have no standing to dispute him.

He wrote: Can I persuade her?

Banichi took the computer back this time, and thought a moment. Find her another course.

Twice damn. As easy to move a river in spate than divert the dowager from her intentions, especially when she failed to trust her former lover and Cenedi’s was the only advice.

And they all sat and acted under a roof where they could not talk freely, not only for fear of Tatiseigi overhearing, but for fear of Kadigidi spies.

He took the computer back. “I shall write another letter, nadiin-ji. This one to her. Thank you.”

They understood. They left him to it, for what little time they might have. And he sat in front of the computer and buried his face in his hands, shutting out the light, trying to think.

Then he wrote:

Bren-paidhi to the esteemed aiji-dowager. Aiji-ma, if my continued presence in this household is in any wise a hindrance to negotiations you may see fit to conduct, I am prepared to withdraw and seek safety elsewhere. You might view a changed situation if you did not also bear the burden of protecting and defending me. I believe strongly that I can guess where Tabini is, and will undertake to reach him, since it seems little likely that I can reach Shejidan. I would also undertake to bring your grandson safely to his father if it seems wise or politic to you to entrust him to me. You might go with me, too, aiji-ma, but these are matters in which I can only offer alternatives, by no means advice to one wise and clever. The paidhi urges in the strongest terms that you spend no force aggressively, but defend this house, allying yourself with Tatiseigi in that enterprise, with which he will much better agree. This close alliance between you and the Atageini, the paidhi believes, will not be what the opposition hopes to see, and the Kadigidi may be provoked into a succession of rash and expensive attacks which may wear down their forces and diminish their respect and their stature. One failure to penetrate your defenses will make them seem weaker than many have thought. Two failures will begin to make them look like fools. Three would cut deeply into their resources. And in the defense of Atageini land against the Kadigidi, one strongly suspects even Taiben would render assistance.

Most urgently I urge you to persuade Tatiseigi to send my letter to the Guild, as intervention by that body, if it could be moved, could save very many lives and preserve the peace.

Be assured I will abide by your wise decision.

I ask you to destroy this message utterly and send a message back with the bearer, with the confidence that I shall likewise destroy the message beyond recovery.

He wrote it out by hand, set his seal on it, and went and gave it to Banichi. “She will reply,” he said, and settled down to an intolerable wait, staring out the window, with nothing to think about but disasters, and routes, and defenses.

It took much longer than he hoped. Perhaps Ilisidi had taken offense at his advice. Perhaps she and Banichi and Cenedi were down the hall having a bitter argument, which might bar Banichi from further consultations.

Worst thought—Tatiseigi might have gotten curious, or tried to intercept his message or her reply. Sit and wait. Sit and wait. Steps approached the door. Banichi came in and brought him a sealed message.

“Stay,” Bren said. “Nadiin-ji, all of you.”

Everyone took chairs near him as he pried loose the wax seal and unrolled the tight curl of the message.

The aiji-dowager to the paidhi-aiji. When has the paidhi joined the Assassins? Your arguments have already made several trips here wearing Banichi’s face.

Damn, he thought. He’d failed.

In advance of any move against the Kadigidi, we have decided to consult our host regarding your interesting notion, and if he is amenable, to send one of our great-grandson’s attendants back to Taiben to test their willingness to join in defense.

Taiben. For God’s sake, it was not the point of his letter. It was a side argument.

If the Atageini will consent and if Taiben will respond to defend the Atageini, this would be unprecedented. But yours is an excellent proposal. There has never been such heredity as my great-grandson’s. He has always been one of my best ideas.

Tatiseigi has sent your letter by courier.

Come to the library for tea within the hour.

He felt a little light-headed as he passed the note to Banichi, who read it impassively, and then with a little lift of the brows

Banichi passed it to Jago. It went from her to Algini, and to Tano, and Tano read it and proffered it back.

“Destroy it, nadi-ji,” he said, and Tano went to the desk and lit the wax-jack, then burned the message, and crumpled the incriminating ash to an irrecoverable smear across his hand.

Chapter 11

Afternoon tea meant well and away a higher-dress event than breakfast. There was no Narani to see to a proper coat and lace cuffs—there was no truly proper coat, for that matter, and no source for him to find one… Cajeiri’s might almost have done, if Cajeiri had had a spare, which he did not. So Banichi and Jago brushed his morning coat, steamed the wrinkles from it and his shirt in the bath, and had him at least presentable.

All the same he felt ill at ease, going downstairs, and with Banichi and Jago having to ask their way of dimly cooperative servants, who said, guardedly, yes, m’lord was expecting him in the library for tea.

No security stood outside. He might be early. He slipped through the ornate, lily-carved doors and, seeing Lord Tatiseigi sitting by the fire, made as unobtrusive a bow as possible, wondering if there was any graceful way to slip out again and await the dowager. But no, there was no way to retreat now. Banichi and Jago had stayed at the door. The lord was here unprotected—ostensibly. But there was, at the far end of the room, another door.

It might be a test. An incredibly important test. “Nandi.” A second small bow as he approached a chair. The old lord was resplendent in dark gold brocade, in a flood of pointed lace down the front of his shirt. He—was shabby, to say the least. “One regrets ever so much the inability to honor your hospitality with appropriate dress. This is so elegant a house, and my baggage was packed for rough living.”

“You did not foresee a welcome here?”

“One extravagantly hoped to be received for an interview, perhaps gain permission to cross your lands, nandi.” He still stood. Tatiseigi had not invited him to sit. “But one would not have presumed to take a welcome for granted.”