Conspirator

What he didn’t understand yet was why Banichi had grabbed Baiji instead of Cajeiri.

Baiji was—he still thought—weak, a lord likely to collapse under anybody’s threat. He wasn’tlikely behind anything, unless Banichi read something entirely differentc

And that was always possible. There were times when the paidhi read atevi just very well; and there were occasional times he didn’t, and right now his confidence in his reading the situation was entirely shaken. Right now he didn’t know whatBaiji was, except related to a very major ally of theirs, and possibly involved in something very, very dangerous.

Banichi had made the gut-level choice to take Baiji with them. And Banichi didn’t make mistakes under fire, never had.

So what in the situation wasn’t he seeing?

He didn’t know, and he sat still and listened to Jago tell Banichi they were close to the house, and heard Banichi suggest they avoid any communications. That told him Banichi worried about a compromise in the house system, but that was a reasonable precaution, if they’d been caught by surprise. It was just a precaution, wasn’t it?

And what in hell was he going to tell the dowager?

Sorry? Sorry I misplaced the boy—again?

They made a turn, scraping brush on the side. “We are on the ridge,” Jago said. “We are going down the short way.”

“Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and indicated he should take over pressure. He did, and Banichi used his com at the last moment for a short, coded exchange, likely a heads-up for Tano and Algini, while Jago took them downhill, hard, and finally onto gravel.

Then he thought: a heads-up, maybe, or maybe checking to be sure everything’s all right at the housec God!

Final stretch. He turned the driver back over to Banichi and got up on his knee, elbows on the seat, to see where they were.

They made the final turn, came down the drive, onto the cobbles, and swerved under the front portico, so similar an arrangement to Kajiminda—but intact. Safe. Bren started to get up. Banichi seized his arm, said, “Hold it, Bren-ji,” meaning the compress, and got up, towering there, bloody-handed—he snatched Baiji unceremoniously to his feet as the bus came to a stop.

Jago pulled the brake, and opened the door.

Tano and Algini were there, and received Baiji when Banichi shoved him off the bus. So was the physician, who climbed aboard. Bren gladly surrendered the driver to the doctor, and stood up—his own pale clothes were as bloody as Banichi’s.

“Bren-ji,” Jago said, taking his arm and urging him up and to the steps.

Cenedi was outside. Bren didn’t know what to say to him, about the youngsters; and the ancient rule—one didn’t, in a crisis, ever discuss anything delicate with Guild not one’s own—seemed to cover the situation. He ducked his head and got down the steps, letting Jago guide him.

As her feet hit the cobbled ground, however, she stopped them both, and said, to Cenedi and Nawari, “One had no choice, nadiin-ji. The young lord is at lord Geigi’s estate—in what situation, by now, we are unable to determine.”

“Details,” Cenedi said shortly, and they stood stock still, facing the gray-haired senior of Ilisidi’s bodyguard.

What followed was what Bren called, to himself, Guild-speak, a lot of information freighted in a few words and a set of handsigns.

“Positioned at the door, bus coming. Shots from the right, wing of the estate roof, bus exposed. I took my Principal, Banichi took the lord, the young lord’s party moved apart, taking cover.”

Was thatit? Man’chi, in crisis, moved emotionally-associated elements together. What moved apart might be allied on a different mission; might be hostile. Man’chi was situated somewhere in the hindbrain, in the gut—Mospheirans would call it the heart. It moved people in certain directions, and Cajeiri’s man’chi hadn’t been to a human, never mind Cajeiri was a minor child. If he’d followed his aishid, that would have been a topsy-turvy response, a fault in his character; and if he’d led his aishid—he was emotionally in charge; but he’d instinctively leftthe paidhi and his guardc going in his own direction, getting under cover. It was crystal clear—if you were wired that way from birth.

He, personally, wasn’t wired that way. But his bodyguard was. Right now Tano and Algini were taking a man of his house to somewhere the doctor could work on him, and Jago was making sure Baiji stayed put, and Banichi—Banichi was facing down his old ally Cenedi’s justified anger, protecting the paidhi. Cenedi, their old ally in a hundred crises, was absolutely expressionless—not happy—and probably assessing what he and hiscould do about the situation that had developed.

He wished he had an answer. He wished he understood half the undercurrents in the situation he’d let develop.

“We stand ready to go back ourselves, Cenedi-nadi,” Bren said. “We shall get the boy back. We do not intend anything less.”

“In the meeting with nand’ Baiji,” Banichi said to Cenedi. “We were dealt half-truths and equivocations. This lord knows something more, and will tell it to us and the dowager’s guard.”

Cenedi glanced toward Baiji with the first gleam of i

“One needs urgently to speak to the dowager,” Bren said, “if she will see me.”

Cenedi gave a jerk of his head, said: “Nandi,” and turned and led the way.

Toby had showed up at the door. Barb, thank God, had not. Toby made a sudden move to grasp his arm that sent hands to pistol butts—a motion restrained as Bren lifted a hand and then laid it on Toby’s shoulder, sweeping him along with him. “Toby, this is very serious. Get back to your suite and stay there. WithBarb. Assassins made a try at us. Cajeiri’s missing. Go. Nobody’s in the least patient here. Ask house staff if you need anything.”

“Any way we can help,” Toby began.

“There isn’t. Not at the moment. Just go. Stay low.”

Toby had that basic sense; and he trusted Toby, at least, to stay put—even to sit on Barb, for her own protection.

One of Cenedi’s men, Kasari, had now moved in to take charge of Baiji. Bren headed down the hall as far as the door of the dowager’s suite of rooms, and Cenedi and Nawari, in the lead, opened the door.

The dowager was on her feet, waiting, leaning on her cane.

Her eyes flashed sullen gold as they took in the bloody spectacle that confronted her.

Bren bowed his head, met her eye to eye with: “Our driver was shot, aiji-ma.”

“Cajeiri separated himself from the paidhi, aiji-ma.” Cenedi said in a flat tone, “seeking cover. He was left behind.”

“How?” Ilisidi snapped, and the cane hit the floor. “What occasioned this?”

“We were about to board the bus,” Bren said, having gathered the atevi-wise salient facts from Jago’s initial explanation. “Shots from the roof, the driver fell, Jago grabbed me and took the wheel. Banichi took Lord Baiji into keeping, aiji-ma. He is here. Cajeiri is there.”

Ilisidi actually, astonishingly, relaxed a little, hearing that set of facts. “In their hands?”

“Uncertain, nand’ dowager,” Banichi said. “One saw no such thing. Nand’ Baiji was addressing nand’ Bren, pleading to go with us to Najida. Shots met us outside. And the young people separated from us in the confusion of motion.”

The cane hit the floor much more gently, twice. The dowager was thinking, and her jaw was set.

“You have Baiji,” she said.

“The young gentleman moved toward cover,” Banichi said. “The young companions were between me and him.”

The Taibeni youngsters—an untrained guard—had moved between Banichi and their young lord: Banichi would have had to flatten them to reach Cajeiri. That might have taken one precious second, and two more to bring Cajeiri back to the bus—a time in which Jago might have been shot and the whole situation unraveled. Their bus in jeopardy, unknown man’chi around them, and Cajeiri andhim to protectc Banichi had saved what he could, and picked him.