Destroyer

“Stay still, nandi,” Algini said. “Stay as you are.”

He was no longer alone, at least. And in a moment more, another figure turned up, crouching low along the hedges. Tano, he was relatively sure.

There was quiet, a lengthy quiet. He put the safety on the gun, at least, feeling that secure, and put it into his pocket, so as not to get dirt in it. But beyond that, he didn’t move.

The mechieti began to stir. One called out.

They’re coming, he said to himself. Their help was coming in.

He lowered his forehead against his hand and drew several even breaths, listening, listening as the mechieti decided, unrestrained, to go wandering out along the stableyard walk, one passing right by them, but, disliking the cobbles of the drive, not going further. His position was becoming untenable not because of enemy action, but because of mechieti.

He eeled forward and got up as far as his knees, when Tano seized his elbow and hauled him back, as all of a sudden mechieti poured past onto the hated cobbles, and other mechieti came crashing through the ruined hedge on the other side of the drive.

“Taiben!” someone called out, and from further down the path, another recognition.

“Cajeiri got there,” Bren ventured.

“One believes a message did,” Banichi said, appearing near them. “One hopes that he got there.”

He was numb. He watched the mechieti milling about, and then a tall rider drew up in front of them and slid down to the cobbled drive.

“Bren-ji,” that man said, in a resonant voice that, once heard, was never forgotten.

“Aiji-ma!” Bren said, with no doubt at all. One never hugged atevi, least of all one’s lord, but it was, it very much was Tabini-aiji.

“One somehow knew Bren-nandi was at the heart of all this fire and smoke,” Tabini said. “Where is my grandmother?”

“In the house, aiji-ma, at least one hopes she is.”

No hesitation, no explanations. A tall figure, wide-shouldered and clad in Assassin’s black, Tabini strode off toward the house steps. A woman in ranger’s green joined him, and two other Assassins in black—Damiri and Tabini’s guard, Bren had no doubt, though he was still stu

“Open to Tabini-aiji, nadiin!”

Bren felt Banichi’s hand on his shoulder, and flinched as lights went on in the house, porch lights and all, throwing the milling, squalling crowd of mechieti and riders on the driveway into relief.

And lighting the several figures on the steps.

Jago had come up beside. Bren found his legs a little uncertain. He was cold, he was filthy, but when his bodyguard moved toward the lighted porch, he walked with them, toward the handful of figures that had gone inside, into the battered hallway.

The lilies in that foyer had, unhappily, suffered in the assault. Bits of porcelain facade lay as white and green rubble on the floor where Tabini and his lady walked. Bren came in behind them, with his guard, and Nawari came into view at the top of the steps, while a few of the Atageini guard appeared behind him in the dimly-lit upper landing hall.

“Lord Tatiseigi?” Tabini’s voice rang out in that vacancy. “Grandmother?”

“Grandson.” The dowager’s voice from the hall above. The fierce stamp of her cane echoed up and down in the stone stairways and shocked nerves lately acclimated to gunshots. “About damned time you showed up, young man! Have you seen your rascal of a son lately?”

Tea, incredibly, hot tea, served to Lord Tatiseigi’s guests in the damaged sitting-room… while a great deal of confusion went on outside, noise of men, and, over all, the squalling complaints of irate mechieti.

A Taiben ranger, Keimi himself, sat taking tea in the Atageini hall with Lord Tatiseigi, not to mention Tabini-aiji, Lady Damiri, the aiji-dowager, and the just-arrived mayor of Hegian, who had rallied three other local lords and their very minor bodyguards in a brave and enterprising move to cut off the Kadigidi’s second advance without involving their towns, a little light, a little noise, well-placed rifles. The amount of racket alone, one might judge, had persuaded the intruders they had tripped a wider alarm than they had looked for.

The driveway, meanwhile, was full of the Atageini home guard, who had arrived in several noisy farm trucks, and, precariously situated near them, a sizeable contingent of Taibeni rangers, arrived in advance of that guard, and camped with their mechieti on what had been a manicured lawn.

“Outlaws,” Tatiseigi complained, not, in this instance, meaning the Taiben lord sipping tea at his elbow. “Outlaws! Renegades! And employed on my own staff! There were traitors!”

“We will see to that matter,” Tabini said. “We have names.” He had grown thi

No hint of blame, Bren thought, no indication Tabini blamed the source of his advice. It by no means absolved him.

“We shall send letters,” Tatiseigi said, “strong letters, to the Guild and to the legislature.”

“Letters,” Ilisidi scoffed. “We shall do better than letters, this round, Tati-ji.”

“You,” Tabini said, “should take yourself to Taiben, mani-ma, and take care of your great-grandson.”

“Advice from my grandson, who spent his time skulking in the woods, with never a message to us when we were there!”

“Grandmother,” Tabini interjected, reasonably. “I was in the hills, somewhat further on. You came here, doubtless to raise a furor that I would hear, and I heard, and our hosts’ foyer is, unhappily, a ruin, by no fault of his.”

The paidhi sipped his tea, aware, at the bottom of everything, that some commotion had arrived outside, and that staff had moved, even security moving from their posts to have a look at the door.

“I swear I would sacrifice the lilies,” Tatiseigi said, to whom that was a very bitter sacrifice indeed, “for my hands on the scoundrels that dared sit on my staff and plot against their own comrades. You believe the downstairs is a shambles, aiji-ma. You should see the upper hall! You will see it, unhappily, in your lodgings.”

“We are by no means sure we should stay the night,” Tabini said. “We should take ourselves back to the hills.”

“And leave us to deal with the Kadigidi?” This from Ilisidi. “No! We have every right to advance over their border and settle accounts. This is no time for retreat!”

“We are by no means sure of success,” Tatiseigi objected.

“We have help from Taiben, we have my elusive grandson and doubtless resources from the Guild… ”

“The Guild remains a problem,” Tabini said gravely, “and one that we ca

“We have written to them,” Tatiseigi said. “We have posed one complaint. We have gathered reason enough for another letter.”

“Letters,” Ilisidi scoffed.

There was a stir at the door, and two travelworn, dusty young Taibeni came in past the guards, and a third, not Taibeni, and not as tall—a ragamuffin of a prince, an exhausted young gentleman who had no trouble at all getting past the guards.

“Father.” A hoarse, strained voice. “Mother.”

Tabini got to his feet. Damiri did. And did the young gentleman do what a human would do and fling himself into a parental embrace?

No. Bren watched as the boy walked up and gave a grave, deep bow, which father and mother returned with equal solemnity.

“You have grown,” Tabini observed, and reached and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I have tried to. And I came against orders. I heard you were coming here to rescue mani-ma.”

“And how did you hear that?”

“That would betray a confidence,” Cajeiri said, “from someone who thought I would follow orders.”