Peacemaker

That would be odd—Jase-aiji’s guards, in armor, at his birthday, by Great-uncle’s arrangement, and it would certainly get attention—the way he could hear their little movements out in the foyer—just now and again, because they could just stand and stand and stand, like statues, and one forgot they were alive—until they moved.

People were going to talk about that, he thought. They were very scary when they stood like that. And inside they were just Kaplan and Polano, who were not always ma

Definitely they were going to be a sensation at his festivity.

 · · ·

“Nadiin-ji,” Bren said to the household. Most of his servant staff had gathered in the foyer to see them off. There was no keeping the secret now that the paidhi-aiji and his bodyguard were not going to the aiji’s party this evening, that they were about to do something in support of the aiji-dowager’s staff—and that even this safe hallway might become dangerous.

The domestic staff’s job was to keep the apartment’s front door shut and keep out of the servant passages—to lock them, in fact; and—an instruction he had given to Narani alone, but that Narani would give once they left—they were to watch those locked doors of the servants’ passages, which led down to the second floor and its resources. Those doors were solid, and once they were locked, there were alarms at a certain point; and if any alarm went off, they were to gather quickly in the foyer, abandon the apartment, and go next door to the aiji’s apartment, to warn the aiji’s staff.

“Narani will be in charge of house security until we return,” he said. “Narani-nadi will give specific orders after we have left. I rely on you.”

There were solemn nods. Bindanda was the other staff member in charge during a crisis, not well-known to be Guild, which was the way Bindanda wanted it. And Bindanda had his own instructions regarding arming a deadly installation in the servants’ hallway access—if an alarm went off. One hoped no such thing would happen.

As for the rest of the staff—for the honest young countryfolk from Najida, mere boys and girls, youthful faces solemn with concern, and for his oldest servants as well, one had the strongest temptation to say something quite maudlin—

Which would only scare the young people, worry them and raise questions one by no means wanted to answer.

At this point, briefcase in hand, on the verge of leaving his own safe foyer, Bren found himself as superstitious as the most devout ’counter, and he was determined not to give way to it.

So he just said to the servants who had gathered, “Baji-naji, nadiin-ji. Take good care of my guests.”

“We shall, nandi,” Narani said, and at a nod from Banichi, opened the front door.

Tano and Algini went out first—with sidearms, ordinary equipment. They might have been going on a social visit. They walked briskly down the corridor to a point that happened to coincide with a fine old porcelain figure on a stand. They stopped there.

It was time. The clockwork gears began to move.

Bren exited the apartment with Banichi and Jago, similarly armed, on his left and his right. Narani took a stance outside the open door, keeping watch in the direction where the hall ended, at Tabini’s apartment, which could not reasonably be expected to threaten them, but it was the rule—one security element watched one way, one watched another. Bren walked at a brisk pace, with his two senior bodyguards. Tano and Algini moved on ahead to the lifts. Tano used his key and opened the car kept waiting at the third floor during their lockdown, no delay at all. Narani meanwhile would be closing and locking the apartment door, not to answer it for anyone except the company in Tabini’s apartment.

They entered with Algini, Tano withdrew the security key, stepped inside just as the door shut, reinserted the key in the console.

Three key-punches destined them for the train station, and the car descended in express mode, a rapidity that thumped a little air shock between levels.

They were launched. From here on out, everything was programmed, interlinked. Unstoppable. Locators on wrists, that usually flickered with microdots of green and red and gold, were quite, quite dead. So was voice communication. They were again, as the Guild expression was, ru

It all became next steps now, step after step after step. At this point he was no longer in charge; Banichi was; and he had no doubt that Banichi was clear-headed—that Banichi knew exactly what he was doing, how far he would have to push himself, and why he was doing it. Tabini had said it: they were one of two extant units that had the rank to lead and do what needed doing. That had been set in stone from the begi

So he had to be where he was, had to go where they were going to go, had to stay with his bodyguard step by step, keep up with their strides and read their cues, right into the heart of a guild whose purpose was to eliminate threats.

It was, on the one hand, insane. It was not going to work. It was on the other hand, necessary, and if it didn’t work, well, essential as he thought he was to the universe—if they didn’t succeed, he had arranged—rather cleverly, he thought—another set of clockwork gears to move, and other things would happen, things that didn’t need him and his team to survive.

 · · ·

Jase-aiji’s white-armored bodyguard went first into the hall, a very strange and scary sight; and there was nobody else out—not at mani’s door, not at nand’ Bren’s. Cajeiri walked with his guests and his bodyguard, behind Great-uncle and Jase-aiji, with Eisi and Liedi tucked in behind—and all of them inside the formation of Great-uncle’s bodyguard. They walked as far as mani’s door, and stopped, with Kaplan and Polano standing frozen for the moment, no twitch, nothing that looked alive. Great-uncle’s senior bodyguard knocked, and mani’s major domo opened the door. Two of mani’s young men came out into the corridor, and then mani herself, in black lace sparkling with rubies, real ones. Great-uncle bowed and she joined them with her guard, too. She would not have been standing in her foyer waiting. Word would have passed that they were on their way, Cajeiri was sure.

And Cenedi was not with her. Neither was Nawari, who almost always was, if Cenedi was not. That was odd. They had to be somewhere about. Perhaps they were already in Father’s apartment.

They walked on down, mani and Great-uncle exchanging pleasant words. They were going to stop at nand’ Bren’s apartment, Cajeiri guessed.

But he was wrong. They just walked past that door.

So maybe nand’ Bren had gone early, too, to talk to Father.

They kept walking, with the steady machine-sound of Jase’s guard, and the tap of mani’s cane, to his father’s apartment, at the end. That door opened just before they reached it, to let them in.

Jase-aiji’s two guards took up a stance on either side of that door, and froze there, out in the corridor. Mani and Great-uncle and Jase-aiji went in, and Cajeiri did, keeping his guests close.

Father’s major domo was there to welcome them, with his staff, and mani and Great-uncle were prepared to go on to the dining room . . . but with a word to the major domo, Jegari dived off with Eisi and Liedi. Cajeiri lingered, waiting with his guests, hoping not to create a fuss.

“One is changing coats, nadi,” he said quietly to his father’s major domo, and received an understanding nod.

And because things felt odd, and because Jase-aiji had never once mentioned nand’ Bren, “Is nand’ Bren here?”

There was a slight hesitation, amid all the movement of bodyguards sorting themselves out and mani and nand’ Jase and Great-uncle going to the dining room.