Intruder

In Murini’s brief tenure, however, there hadbeen renewed pressure to sell in those red-tiled neighborhoods—to some of Murini’s supporters. Some owners had signed, and then regretted it, which was why there was now one modern office block stalled under construction next to the hotel.

But at least that one half-built construction was all Murini had gotten away with. The residents of the Old City, as they called themselves, had stuck together, and mysterious roof tiles had fallen very near speculators in the neighborhood, even in those scary days. There was talk, now, of tearing the half-finished building down, or allowing one more hotel, or refinishing it as a set of shops more in tune with the neighborhood. There was even a proposal to rebuild what had been there, but that was mired in controversy about authenticity.

He approved of the struggle to preserve the central city. And he leaned forward, elbows on knees, to get the best view of its winding streets through the front window, once they passed the busy commercial area. The way ahead was gray and brown, old buildings, those traditional red-tiled roofs, and there was a logic to the street layout that stemmed not from geometry, or convenience, or even topography—but from interfamilial associations that had lived and operated there for centuries.

The Guild had lodged Siodi-daja in a little aosi, that was to say a property without heirs, which happened now and again, a status always met by a frenzy of offers to buy. In this case, the Guild had used its influence, and the aiji’s funds, and had bought the property after the decease of the last of the family, one understood, some seventy-eight years ago.

A residence and an office this close to the Bujavid, when there were important lords like Geigi who did not have a residency inside the Bujavid—was amazing; and if ever the Guild released the property in which they had installed Siodi-daja, there would be another furious bidding war.

It somewhat answered the question what in hell they were going to do with Machigi when hearrived, not so long from now. Move Siodi out and Machigi in, maybe, except that the chief lord of a whole district could not lodge outside the Bujavid without some inconvenience, not to mention loss of dignity, unless in his own premises.

Machigi’s arrangement was going to be a headache from the outset; and hope to God the promised aosi was large enough to decently accommodate Siodi-daja andLord Machigi in sufficient propriety. If not—

If not, there had to be some sort of arrangement for Machigi aside from that.

The van pulled up on bumpy old brick cobbles at the front of an ordinary looking house of the district, in a lane only scarcely wide enough to admit one such vehicle—ordinary-looking, except that uniformed Guild instantly came down the steps to the curb, and Tano and Algini got out and exchanged signs with the guards, looking up and down the block.

Banichi and Jago got out, and he did, with dispatch. Their driver would wait in the van, and any other vehicle that needed to come down the street was simply out of luck. The restaurant catty-angled across the street would get a fair amount of foot traffic in another couple of hourscbut distinguishing an alley from a thoroughfare in the Old City was sometimes difficult, and most deliveries came by hand truck. So they would just have to walk the extra block, that was all, cursing the while, perhaps, but there that van would sit.

The local guard led the way. He and his aishid climbed a modest flight of stairs, up to a modest old-fashioned hallway with elaborately carved doors and two Guildsmen standing waiting for them.

Up two more steps to the main hall. A young woman in civilian dress waited to open the first side door, and within the room, with two more bodyguards, the Maridi lady was evident by her seniority and her ma

“Siodi-daja,” Bren said, pleased, and bowed. She bowed in turn.

“Nand’ paidhi. One is astonished to receive so distinguished a personal visit.”

“One again represents the aiji-dowager, Siodi-daja. One trusts you have found the premises acceptable. It is beyond difficult to find lodging in Shejidan in any season, but in the spring—”

“Very fine,” she said and added, with a little wry humor, “and we find it extremely safe.”

He rather liked the woman, for that little spark. At the invitation, he appointed himself a seat in the obvious place, in a little sitting group with a little low table and a dry arrangement, aside from her desk.

The windows on this second story were all old-style, with white lace curtains, and admitting an uncertain light. The furnishings had seen at least a century and had come with the house. The lady’s coat sparkled with silver thread in the light of two dim lamps—antique, and quiet, like the rest of the lighting. It might have been gloomy, but it seemed genteel and pleasantly old-fashioned instead.

Quickly then, there was tea, as they faced each other in a house mostly occupied by the Assassins’ Guild and poised on a hair trigger against any threat. One imagined a basement full of armament and surveillance gear; and one began to get the entire picture, that this house, with all its other rooms, was as safe as a bank. Machigi could truly lodge here in safety, give or take the exposure of a van ride to the train.

“And how is Lord Machigi?” That much business could politely be discussed over tea.

“Very well,” Siodi-daja said. “And the aiji-dowager?”

“Well, and on her way to Shejidan at this hour. As is Lord Geigi.”

“And my lord is likewise ready to proceed, at the dowager’s invitation and as her guest.”

“Which will come, indeed, and quite soon. One trusts he will stay here in comfort, and his conveyance to the Bujavid will be with guards you appoint.”

A nod. “Excellent, nandi. One is glad.”

“You have received the final form of the documents, I trust?”

“To our knowledge, the final form. They have been couriered to Tanaja, to my lord’s hand.”

“Excellent. I can then report everything in order. Is there any other thing the dowager may wish to know in advance?”

“I have had no information.”

“Indeed. We hope to have everything covered. —And how doyou find the city?”

“Very large,” Siodi said with a pleasant, grandmotherly laugh. “Very land-bound. I have never been out of sight of the sea before.”

“We are very much in the heart of the West,” he said. “One does recommend the Bujavid Museum if you have leisure, your guard permitting, and if you extend your stay, which of course we hope you will do. It is a public area of the Bujavid and generally has excellent personal security and excellent exhibits. No one will trouble you or they will answer to the very proper Director, one assures you. There is also a textile museum somewhat across town and a beautiful public garden, the Kosa Madi. All of these places you may find enjoyable.”

The talk ran on pleasantly through a second cup of tea, quite, quite easy and free and increasingly cheerful. The lady was charming. And no fool. When they were past the opening courtesies, the lady said, “And are we to meet with the various Guilds in this place, nand’ paidhi?”

“You are indeed, nandi. I know the Merchants’ Guild is quite ready to meet with you, most likely in the Bujavid committee rooms, if you are so kind, and it has abundant questions and a generally positive outlook. Transportation and the Messengers have been deluging me with queries, and those two Guilds are likely to request meetings in their offices within the Bujavid—those two will be full of questions, a far harder set of questions than the Merchants’ Guild will ask, but the paidhi’s office and, I am sure, the aiji-dowager’s staff will support you with research and communications. The Merchants are quite impressed with the porcelain, which is on exhibit, let me add, in the foyer of the Bujavid, under the auspices of the museum director.”