Deceiver

Or each other.

Always ferment. Always some military action brewing, or threatened, or possible.

It was a long, long history: the Marid exited its district to create mayhem in some district of the aishidi’tat. The aishidi’tat retaliated, occasionally sent in a surgical operation to eliminate a Marid lord, to adjust politics at least in a quieter direction.

Nobody, however, had ever “adjusted” the Marid out of the notion of taking the West Coast.

He couldn’t think about failure. He hurt like hell. Breathing hurt if he moved wrong. He could be scared if he let himself, and that was guaranteed failure. He was likely to be tested. He was likely to be threatened. And he was feeling fragile. He had to rid himself of that.

Was Machigi a good lord or a bad one?

A bad one, in the sense of corrupt and self-interested, might actually be easier to negotiate with. A good one, in the sense of looking toward the benefit of his own people, would be harder to compass, in terms of figuring out what his assumptions were and what his concerns were.

A bad man would have a far simpler endgame, one that might be satisfied by personal gain. And quite honestly, nobody had ever wholly discerned Machigi’s personal character.

Was Machigi truly as brilliant a young man as rumor said or in some degree a lucky one?

Was he, if brilliant, a tactician or a strategist? Brilliant in near-term results—or in long-range pla

Was Machigi that rare young man with the nerves for long-term suspense, or would he act precipitately?

Was he traditionalist? Rational Determinist, like Geigi? Or a thorough cynic and pragmatist?

He did wish he could pull down what Shejidan might have.

Banichi and Jago came back to their seats, opposite him.

“Were you possibly able to read the household in that call, nadiin-ji?” he asked.

“One found them well-ordered, and run from the top,” Banichi said.

That was a point.

“How much initiative within his staff?” he asked.

“Communication went fairly directly to his aishid, and from his aishid to him.”

An admirable thing, correctly sifting out an important communication and speed in their lord knowing it. A lord with his hands on all the buttons, it seemed. Nobody had presumed to stall the communication. Therefore a lack of handlers. That might be in their favor.

He said, somberly, “One apologizes in advance, nadiin-ji, for bringing you into this kind of hazard. And no one could be more essential to any hope of success. I do not expect you infallibly to get me out alive and I know you understand in what sense I mean it. I do expect that if the worst happens, as many of you as possible will get out and report where it counts. Other than that, I give no orders.”

“We know our value,” Banichi said. “And we ca

“One trusts absolutely in your judgment,” he said. “But take no action that you can avoid. In this, and with greatest apology, if something untoward happens, let me attempt to deal with it first. If I am threatened, I shall take your abstinence as a sign that a reasonably intelligent human shouldbe able deal with it.”

Banichi actually laughed. So did Jago.

“We are in agreement,” Banichi said. And then said soberly: “You will do your best, Bren-ji.”

“Yes,” he said, with a very hollow feeling in his stomach. “Yes, I shall.”

21

« ^ »

Nand’ Toby had waked. So Antaro said. And Cajeiri went to his bedside to see, and to sit for a moment. Things upstairs were justc scary.

Very scary. And he was going to have to lie as well as he had ever lied in his life.

“Nand’ Cajeiri,” Toby said to him when he sat down there, spoke very faintly, but then cleared his throat a little and lifted his head.

“Quiet, nandi,” Cajeiri said. “Nand’ Bren said you stay in bed. Sleep.”

“Tired of sleeping,” nand’ Toby said, but his head sank back to the pillow. “Where’s Bren? Has he learned anything?”

Words. Words that never had come up between him and Gene and Artur on the ship. He understood the question. That, at least.

“He went to Targai. He follows Barb-daja. He looks for her, nandi.”

“No word from him?”

He shook his head, human fashion. “He’s busy.”

“Damn, I want out of this bed. I think they gave me something.”

“You sleep, you eat, you sleep. Antaro, did the kitchen send anything?”

“One can go get something, nandi.”

“Yes,” he said, and Antaro slipped out the door and shut it.

“It’s been quiet for a while,” Toby said. “I heard something blow up.”

“Long way.” The ship had never had words for long distances inside. Just fore and aft. Deck levels. “Out—” He waved a hand toward the road, generally. “Far.”

“Somebody was hurt.”

“Nand’ Siegi fixed them.”

“Good,” nand’ Toby said. “No word on Barb?”

He shook his head. “No. No word.”

“Bren safe?”

“Yes,” he said. “Banichi and Jago go with him.”

“Good,” Toby said. He seemed to be drifting again, then woke up, lifted his head, and looked around him a little. “Where is this?”

“Safe here,” Cajeiri said. And pointed up. “Dining room.”

“Ah,” Toby said, as if that had made sense to him. He lay back, breathing deeply. “You’ve been here a lot.”

He understood all of that. “Nand’ Bren said stay with you.”

“Thank you,” Toby said in Ragi.

He wassomebody important, too important to be on errands, there was that. But he was proud when nand’ Toby said that.

“Good,” he said in ship-speak. “Damn good.”

Nand’ Toby thought that was fu

He knew far, far too much of what was going on to be comfortable lying to nand’ Toby. He was glad when Antaro came back with a cup of soup and some wafers and gave them something specific to do.

Nand’ Toby drank half the soup and ate one wafer, and said he wanted more later. So he was getting better.

There was that.

But talk with nand’ Toby was difficult and full of pitfalls, and finally he said, to dodge more questions, that he was going to go upstairs and see if there was any news.

He took his time coming back down. There was nothing more to hear anyway, except that nand’ Bren had crossed into Marid territory. He was very relieved nand’ Toby had gone back to sleep.

The land sloped generally downward, and the road, as such, was a grassy track, about bus-wide, between low scrub evergreen. Limestone took over again from basalts, old uplift, old violence.

It was not a maintained roadc but there had been vehicle tracks pressing down the grass and breaking brush in the not too long ago—perhaps traffic that had come from Targai, or to it.

There was no other presence as the sun sank behind the heights. There was a scampering herd of game, and once, rare sight in the west, a flight of wi’itikin from a fissured cliffside. Bren noted that and thought of the dowager, who aggressively protected the creatures in her own province. Ilisidi would approve of that, at least.

The clouds above the western hills turned red with sunset and the driver had turned on the headlamps by the time they came on the sea—a startling vista, stretching from side to side of the horizon: that much red-lit water, and a few small islets, within shadowy arms of a large bay.

Lights sparked the dimming landscape, some near the water, more clustered somewhat inland.

“Tanaja,” Bren said, and Banichi and Jago, who had been catching a nap he envied, woke and turned to see.