Peacemaker

He was tired and dull-witted. God, he hadn’t been able to sleep at all on the train, except at the last, and now he wanted nothing more than just to shut his eyes and wake up in his own bed—but that wasn’t going to happen. The next half hour or so might present more hellish problems than where they’d been, if their linking into Bujavid communications turned up trouble in the capital: they had had no word of such, but then, successful conspiracy didn’t advertise its moves. They just had to hope the situation in the Bujavid was business as usual.

He put his computer away. It was a question how long the story they’d given the Transportation Guild would hold—which might tell them whether or not the Bujavid was under an active alert. The ordinary process that brought in an upbound train from the provinces was far from speedy these days. Security had grown incredibly meticulous since the coup. There would be a query. The question was how far to maintain the cover, and whether to invoke Bujavid security to secure the platform.

It was not his decision, however. The dowager’s Guild senior, Cenedi, in charge of their prisoners in the next car, would make the call to tell certain people in the Bujavid station office who they really were—and granted the Bujavid station office was operating without problems, they would make adjustments and get reliable people into position to assure they could disembark smoothly, without, say, meeting a random work crew or other waiting passengers. Cenedi might have made that call as they switched onto the Bujavid spur, but if not, it would come very soon.

The operation came down, now, to hoping they were informing the right people, and hoping the Bujavid was serenely unaffected by the dust-up up in the Padi Valley. It was all riding on Cenedi’s judgment.

Banichi was talking to Jago, nearby, discussing the situation. Banichi ought to have been lying down the entire trip. Banichi had refused, and insisted on staying armed and on active duty.

“Is everything in order?” Bren asked Tano, who was nearest him.

“Everything is in order, nandi,” Tano said. “We are still not using the locators, not even our short-range communications. We shall run dark until we are in the lifts. But we are on passive reception, and our story seems to be holding up. We seem not to have roused any questions yet.”

Security-wise, they were story within story within story—within story, since they were all supposed to be at the dowager’s estate across the continent. It was still a little worrisome that they were arriving in the most secure building on Earth, blithely breaching their own security . . . but when they did lie, they could at least do it from inside knowledge.

Someone eventually had to advise Tabini-aiji, too, that they and his eight-year-old son were back—and Tabini would have to make a decision to let them go on hosting a collection of bright-eyed young humans, or take the youngsters himself. Natural, that a father would take custody of his own son—but the aiji-consort, who had just lost her father, was about to give birth, didn’t approve of humans, and the marriage was in trouble, politically.

It was one mundane problem, in the midst of others not so mundane. But it was a large problem. They had to put the youngsters somewhere. Somebody had to make a decision, and it had to be one that calmed, rather than exacerbated, Tabini-aiji’s domestic problems. God knew whether Tabini had told the aiji-consort the public story—or the truth about where her son had been staying.

There was at least time, in that slow climb, for everybody to get organized. “I am perfectly well-arranged, nadiin-ji,” Bren said to his two valets, when they came to assist him. He needed a change of coats, at very least, but they had not packed with that in mind. “Kindly help any of the heir’s guests who need assistance. We are not going to delay for precedence once the doors open. Our intention is to get off the platform as quickly as possible until we know the situation here. Help keep them in good order.”

They moved immediately to do that, quietly assisting Jase to lift his duffle down, for starters, from an atevi-scale storage rack. The dowager’s own servants had gone to the other end of the car, assisting with the fair lot of hand baggage the human party had with them—a significant amount of it belonging to Jase, equipment that they had not wanted to leave behind for later shipment.

Their personal wardrobes and such, two very large crates, were due to arrive with one of Lord Tatiseigi’s staff and security, on another train. They had not wanted anything to delay their boarding or hold the train any longer at the local station than absolutely necessary. On the official records, that train might not even have stopped, for all he knew.

They had, however, transported Cajeiri’s pet, Boji, a parid’ja, in an ornate, antique cage the size of a small dining set. It, with staff baggage, was in the car ahead of them, with Cenedi and certain of the dowager’s men, with Kaplan and Polano, and all their gear. Boji had somewhat earned special consideration, as much of a headache as he had been last evening. The black-furred little imp, of a species fairly rare on the continent except in Taiben and the foothills of the continental divide, was noisy, escape-prone, and hard to catch, but he had been of service, and if they had had to leave Cajeiri’s principal present behind in the stables, they had resolved not to leave Cajeiri’s little egg-thief behind if they could possibly avoid it.

Boji was going to have to come up the freight elevator, however, with Cajeiri’s valets, who were traveling in attendance on it. And in yet another car were certain of the dowager’s bodyguard, Jase’s two men, in armor, and with their gear; and the three prisoners they were bringing back with them. One almost hoped, regarding Aseida, the Kadagidi lord, now in deep difficulty with the dowager and Lord Tatiseigi, that Boji pitched one of his prolonged screaming fits. One did not, however, wish it on Cenedi—or on their other prisoners, two Dojisigi Assassins who were also going to have to be put somewhere. Those two honorable and sensible men did not deserve a bare cell in the Bujavid’s detention station. Lord Aseida himself, who deserved the bleakest lodging they could find—was too sensitive a case to put into ordinary care, and one wondered what the dowager was going to do with the three of them.

But it was not his decision.

Bren slung his computer strap to his shoulder—Jago usually helped him with it, but Jago had her several weapons with her. They all did. There was enough firepower in this car and the next to take the entire Bujavid by storm, if that had been their intent . . . or to have defended the train, if they’d come under attack. One earnestly hoped not to have to do that.

The train ran level now, and though he’d lost track of the switches, Bren was sure he knew on what track they would arrive, and that they would face a short walk to the end of the track. He stood ready to debark. Jase did. And at the other end of the car, the youngsters surged to their feet, all gathering up their personal bags, with Bren’s valet attempting to bring order to chaos. The aiji-dowager and Lord Tatiseigi alone stayed seated as the train, somewhat past the little bump at its switching-point, came to a stop. Then Tatiseigi got up, not too obviously with the assistance of his chief bodyguard, and gallantly offered his hand to Ilisidi, who used the other hand for her black cane.

The movement of senior Guild outward up the aisle displaced the youngsters, who crowded back into their seats, clearing passage, but that door was not going to open until Cenedi and their people from the car in front had deployed on the platform and signaled them it was safe.