Betrayer

“A matter of understanding the other side’s position, nandi. Tabini-aiji has been accused of shifting too often. But his adaptability in the face of change may turn out to be a very great asset to all atevi. Including you, Lord Machigi.” Getting the exchange back to him and Machigi was essential. “You also have a reputation for flexibility, beyond any other lord of the Marid. What the dowager has heard of you encourages her belief that you may be another such individual as her grandson. She thinks you more valuable to the Marid than any other lord, and far too valuable to have at odds with her.”

“Shall we be flattered by that?”

Right off the edge of the cliff. Live or die. “She extends an offer of negotiation and, in my belief, association with her, nandi. That is no flattery. She is eminently practical. You lead the Marid Association. Others may claim that position, but they have done nothing creative in their entire administrations. The aiji-dowager does not see any advantage to her or to the aishidi’tat in your fall from power, which would only bring chaos to the Marid.”

Machigi leaned back in his chair and swept an uneasy glance toward his advisors. “So Tabini-aiji has formed designs on the Marid? This is no news at all.”

“The aiji-dowager has no territorial ambitions here. And this is her offer, not Tabini-aiji’s.”

“Which can lead to a Ragi navy in our ports,” the scarred man muttered. The central district was dominated by Tabini’s Ragi clan; in effect, the aishidi’tat’s core was Ragi clan. “Ask the human, aiji-ma, how long until the Ragi show up for a goodwill tour, to survey our defenses?”

Machigi made a move of his hand, tossing the question to Bren.

Bren drew a breath. The Marid lords being legendary seafarers, the sea had always mattered to them—emotionally—and one did not think the sea would ever cease to matter. “Again, nandi, the aiji-dowager does not command a navy. Nor is she, in fact, Ragi.”

A silence followed that parry. The aiji-dowager was often thought of in one breath with the Ragi. But in fact she was not. She was Eastern. Foreign.

“Then what is the benefit of such an alliance?” the woman asked. “Where is any advantage to us in dealing with her? What have we possibly to do with the East?”

There was the question. And Bren had thought about it— with absolutely no instruction from the dowager, no brief, no preparation, and no possible consultation with the dowager. He flatly made it up out of whole cloth, hopingto come up with something that would involve no weakening of the Ragi position, no concessions on the west coast, and would actually pose some benefit to both sides.

It started with the word most valued by the Marid and proceeded to a word favoring one of their two factions.

“Ships, nandiin. Development of an eastern market, to the dowager’s benefit and yours.”

“What moves by sea,” the scarred man asked, “that the aishidi’tat does not move by rail? This is no offer.”

“Rail does not touch the east of the East. The aiji-dowager has gathered power and influence over a very wide area of that half of the continent. It is a rural, traditional population, particularly along the coast, which has seafaring villages, like the Marid. Unlike the Marid, however, having no land within reach, the East has never developed a shipping industry. The East has never trusted the Guilds. It views rail as a Ragi-run institution, which reaches to the center of the East, but not to the coast, and there is only one line. Getting rail through the mountains has been slow and full of politics. So trade flows, but not enough. The dowager has no desire to change the traditional ways of her people; but she does not intend the people of the eastern coast to continue in the relative poverty that afflicts that district. The development of fisheries and villages up and down that coast would be of great interest to her, but Easterners are not, traditionally, adventurous seafarers. The harbors there are small.

There are coasters that go up and down to small ports, but nothing launches out to the wide sea. The area is mostly fisherfolk and cottage industry and has no wish to industrialize. It is, in short, much like the Marid itself.” Everything he was saying now was true, top to bottom, and for at least the duration, they were all listening: adrenaline flowed. It was the thi

Silence followed. Glances slid one way and the other among the taciturn ministers. The last had been risky, but it seemed a damned good shot.

Machigi lifted a hand, commanding attention.

“Well,” Machigi said, “attractive as these new ports may be, the question facing us is the intention of the aishidi’tat to dictate to the Marid.”

“Indeed,” Bren said. “Through association with the aiji-dowager, your relations with the aiji in Shejidan could greatly improve. You would have an advocate.”

“Tabini-aiji is Ragi born and bred, greedy, and bent on taking the south. She is his grandmother.”

The old feud, the Ragi with the South, the old resentment. The whole argument could shipwreck on that rock.

“Traditions are both a brake and a compass; but the engine—the engine of the aishidi’tat, nandi, is a leader who can effect change and who willlisten if you have proposals, particularly if you have the aiji-dowager’s support going in. Traditionalists in the north will always temper Tabini-aiji’s desire for change—but if any association is going to survive into a changing future, the leader of that association has to have the freedom to move. The dowageris such a leader. Youare such a leader. You, nandi, can step straight into a very profitable association withoutthe untidy process of a war. And she, through her personal co

Machigi tilted his head, considering that statement, and it might have pleased him, or amused him. He had that slight expression—which slowly evolved into a brief smile.

“You are good, paidhi.”

“One hopes to be helpful to both sides, nandi. The aishidi’tat and the Marid have spent too much of their wealth and invention on wars.”

Machigi swept a sober look about at his ministers. “We have things to consider, do we not, nandiin-ji?”

There was not a word from the ministers, no lively give and take. No acceptance. But no rejection.

Was there ordinarily that sort of session with this man? Bren asked himself. Was it the presence of an enemy that restrained them—or was it the habit of restraint with a touchy young autocrat?

He gathered no clue from them at all. Machigi gave a flick of his hand on the chair arm, and the ministers all rose and bowed and left, collecting the majority of the guards as they went.

Bren didn’t stare after them. He watched Machigi, and Machigi watched him, while their two sets of bodyguards stood watching over both of them.

“Well,” Machigi said, “well, shall we take a walk together, nand’ paidhi?”